


The Crystal's Call

by finem



Series: Emrys Rising [2]
Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Community: paperlegends, Conspiracy, Dream Sex, M/M, Magic tattoo, Military Violence, Missing Persons, Sex Magic, Slash, Soul Bond, cliffhanger ending, military things, pining!arthur, technomancy, too thin!merlin, you won't like me when it's over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finem/pseuds/finem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>REVISED: Modern Magical AU.  Merlin is missing and magic is fading.  With the one person who can restore the balance out of reach, it’s up to Arthur and his men to uncover Uther’s plot to steal magic from sorcerers, and put a stop to it before it’s too late.  Part 2 of a series.</p>
<p>I've been working on this edit forever... (T-T)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...
> 
> Hi. I'm sure someone out there might still be looking for this to be updated... To those with such patience, I'm going to say, thank you for staying with me and I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't give up on this and look! Here's a thing! I finally finished my edits for this one and that means I can finally start working on the last one! 
> 
> Um...the last one is in progress...but I won't make any promises to the speed at which it will be finished. But if the lateness of this post proves anything, it is...that I will finish it someday orz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Infiltration happens.
> 
> I'll be posting every Sunday until I get this revision reposted...
> 
> Notable Edits:  
> The Pendragon company name has changed from PenTech to PendraCor International. Sounds much less like a stationary company.

_“Fang Two to Fang Leader. We have visual. Target is on second level with three others. AE levels positive on all spectra ranging from red to amber.”_

Arthur’s jaw clenched as he heard the confirmation, pulse increasing in anticipation. He sat monitoring communications from their make-shift command center in a van a couple of blocks away from the building they were surveilling. This could finally be the break they’d been waiting for. The man they were tracking, Alvarr, was a known associate of Morgause Gorlois, and the closest thing they had to a lead on Morgana’s whereabouts. Six months had passed since the two women had vanished from the grounds of Arthur’s university. Six months of searching and praying, knowing that every moment that Morgana was missing made it all the more likely that she would never be found. Morgause had gone to ground, and she was not making herself easy to find.

Arthur quickly took note of the information that had been given, mind working on the best way to approach the situation. They would be dealing with four sorcerers. Four relatively powerful sorcerers if the Arcane Energy levels were accurate. It was rare enough to find sorcerers with enough magic to even register on their aurameters anymore, and those who did were usually in the weaker end of the spectrum; red, occasionally orange, but almost never anything brighter. Before meeting Merlin, Arthur hadn’t even known that sorcerers could register in the white-gold range reserved for magic in its purest form, and he was pretty sure that Merlin was the only living soul who had come by that much power through natural means.

In the wake of the continued depletion of magic in the world, seeing an AE reading of amber or brighter meant augmentation of some kind. For the general public, PendraCor enhancers were becoming more and more common, the public unaware of their sinister origins. But on the streets, in darker circles that would rather avoid supporting the likes of Uther Pendragon, another form of augmentation had begun cropping up. Tales of magic theft were becoming more and more common, and with four sorcerers with that much power, Arthur had a sinking suspicion that they were in for more than just a snatch and grab on this one.

Arthur shared a look with Leon and knew that his commanding officer had drawn the same conclusion. They were more likely than not looking at a ‘Charging Station’, the euphemism used to describe the places were magic was stolen from some in order to “charge up” others. This meant not only facing stronger sorcerers, but also the likelihood of civilians in peril. They’d come across places like this a couple of times before and learned some valuable lessons. Like the fact that stolen magic was more unstable, less predictable, and generally harder for its wielder to control. Between this and the potential victims underfoot, they would have to tread very carefully.

“Signs of shields or wards?” Leon asked Lance over the comm.

“Affirmative. Can’t get a read on how strong, but the building schematics show that there is a basement and subbasement level, and I can’t get anything from those areas. Only one of our sensors is picking up anything at all.”

Translation: Their standard issue equipment wasn’t cutting it so Lance had pulled out the “trick” equipment that Arthur had provided him; equipment that had appeared in Arthur’s room one morning with no indication of where it had come from, but had a warm familiar tingle that pulled at his heart and a spot just beyond his navel. That feeling had been answer enough and reason enough for Arthur to know the equipment could be trusted.

He’d received a few such deliveries over the past several months, all with the same familiar warmth. But despite knowing that Merlin was the source, he’d never heard from the man himself. He didn’t know how Merlin knew that his team would need the help; didn’t know why the other man made no attempts to contact him, but he was grateful. Especially now when it looked like Merlin’s gifts would make all the difference in whether or not they’d be able to attain their objective and get one step closer to getting Morgana back.

The van that was serving as their command center was silent as Leon considered their options. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was glad that it was not up to him to make the decision in this situation. It had been one thing to lead a team through drills and mock combat scenarios, even some of the simpler recon missions, but this was different. Lives were at stake. His team’s lives, the lives of the people who were likely held prisoner in that building. Morgana’s. Much as there was part of him that wanted to be the one to bring these bastards to justice, he lacked the proper experience to pull off an operation of this magnitude. He was man enough to admit that.

“Alright Arthur, break it down. What are our considerations?” Arthur started slightly at being addressed. Leon did this often, but he wasn’t expecting a command drill on a mission like this. He wasted a precious few seconds blinking in confusion.

“You have less than a minute, soldier. Considerations!” That snapped Arthur’s brain and mouth into gear.

“Four sorcerers on the second level. Heavy shielding on the lower levels. Target is in sight, but we don’t know what reinforcements might be in the lower levels. If we go in, we’ll be going in blind. The entire building is probably shielded so we’ll have to find a way through the shield first. We need this target alive and there are likely civilians. We don’t want to use lethal force. Stun charges, shock grenades. Inhibitor rounds if we have to.”

“Suggested course of action?”

Arthur paused at this. What would be the best way to get in and out with as little risk as possible? Surprise was their best advantage at this point. There was no indication that the people in the building were at all aware that their location had been compromised. But with shields and wards, anyone with magic in the building would be alerted as soon as the team got close enough. They had to be careful how they played this.

“We need to get past the shields. We have a couple of tricks for shield cracking, but the target will be alerted as soon as we use them. We’d have to move fast.”

“Strike points?”

“We split the team. Half goes high, half goes low. We hit both the upper and lower levels at the same time. Break the shields and break in. Speed and surprise will be our edge.”

“Good, Arthur. You’re getting better at calling these things. You matched my thoughts almost exactly with the exception of a few details.”

Rather than explaining further, Leon puled his facemask down hiding all features and activating the AE goggles built into the mask. That was Arthur’s cue to do the same. He followed Leon out of the van even as the older man began issuing orders to the team.

“Listen up Dragons, here’s the play. We’re going in fast and hard. Bravo and Charlie will take the high ground. Alpha and Delta go low. Delta, you’re out back, Fang One and I will come in through the front. Echo will split and take Over-watch. Make sure no one gets out of that building. Fang Three, I know you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve. You’re to hit the second level shield first, long distance, and get in the moment the shield is down. We’ll wait for your signal before attacking the shield on the first level. With any luck, anyone downstairs will be distracted enough from the first attack that they won’t see us coming. Confirm.”

Arthur listened as each member of the team checked in to confirm that they understood their role in the mission, counting down from Fang Nine. Arthur was last to add his confirmation after which Leon gave a firm nod.

“Alright then gentlemen. Take your positions. We go live in five.”

Even as the order was being given, Arthur was reaching into one of the many pockets in his strike gear to find the small satchel of Merlin’s gifts. There were not many; a few very special bullets, a personal shielding device, a few emergency teleportation beads, a pair of spelled handcuffs that could bind magic, and some very special coins designed as protection for sorcerers who might need to hide. And, of course the shield-cracker. He’d received four in total, little glass marbles that had a core of light at their center when closely observed. He handed three out to his men from Camelot University; the junior division of the Dragon Corps that he had been responsible for training. They were friends and brothers all, and though he did keep some of the special item for himself, he did his best to make sure the advantage was shared out to the entire unit. Well...almost the entire until.

Although there had only been rare occasions when the trick tech came into play, the other members of the Dragon Corps, those who had trained under Leon away from the university and had never been under Arthur’s command, were aware that Arthur had some slightly different tools at his disposal, but he’d never shared the source of said tools. They assumed that he had access to improved technomancy through his father, and Arthur never made any attempt to dissuade them of that assumption. Leon was the only one he had told, as his commanding officer and someone who was like a brother to him, and Leon had made the call to keep the origin of the enhanced devices under wraps for the time being.

Arthur palmed the little ball of light in preparation for their attack. Most of the team had already checked in that they were in position. There was only a bit of roof hopping to be made for most of the unit, the biggest shift probably being for the two men of Echo Team to get into Over-watch positions. Arthur was with Leon, moving out of the covered alley where their van was hidden, sticking to the shadows as they made their way to the building on foot. It was only a block away and took them seconds to get into position in an alley across the street. Final checks came in. The team was in position. Leon gave the order, (“Fang Three, if you would”) and everything went, immediately, sideways.

The moment the shield cracker made contact with the shield, Arthur knew. He and Leon were already rushing forwards, but even as they did he could tell that something was wrong. It was a feeling that he recognized, had experienced a few times. Magic building too fast with unpredictable and often disastrous results. He was never sure why it was that he could feel it the way he could. It hadn’t taken him long when growing up to understand that it wasn’t something that everyone could feel, especially those without magic, but he had learned to use it as a tool; was particularly grateful for it in times like this.

“Brace!” he shouted over the comm, grabbing Leon and pulling him to the ground just before the power broke. Arthur felt it as a steadily growing pressure in the air, tingling over his nerves. But with this kind of power, there were other effects on their surroundings. He could feel a low thrum moving through the ground, almost a sound, but not quite. The world went silent just before a brilliant flash of light as the shield shattered, taking every window in the building with it.

“ _Fucking shite!_ ” someone shouted over the comm as the blast receded. Glass was raining down into the street and Arthur was grateful, not for the first time, for the thick material that protected every inch of his body. Leon was shouting over the comm for the team to _Go! Go! Go!_ He heard the confirmation that Bravo and Charlie were in. He and Leon were steps away from the main entrance, the doors looking as though they were barely hanging on. Arthur pocketed the other shield cracker seeing as they wouldn’t need it after all, took hold of his assault rifle and prepared as best he could for what was to come.

He sprinted for the entrance, hot on Leon’s heels as the team fed terse updates over their channel. The sorcerers had scattered the moment they saw the team of masked men swing through the shattered windows. As Arthur and Leon neared the main door, Owaine’s cheery voice offered over the comm: “Allow me, lads” just before the lock on the door was shot clean through. That was all it took for the doors to finally give in and fall completely from their hinges. Impressed as he was, Arthur kept it to himself, instead focusing on getting in and making sure their target didn’t escape.

He entered the building behind Leon, eyes and gun scanning the area for threats. There were a couple of figures on the floor, dazed from the unleashing of power and making little effort to get back to their feet. From the looks of them, they were in no shape to be putting up much of a defense; bodies thin and clothes tattered. He wasn’t picking up any AE fields from them through his goggles, but he could see Marks on at least one other, the seals of magic that formed when a sorcerer came of age, indicating that there were other sorcerers amongst the people hiding in this building other than the four on the upper levels.

“Stay down and do not move,” Leon commanded, sweeping the room with his weapon. “The authorities will be here shortly. We have no desire to harm you.”

Even as the words were spoken, there was the sound of heavy footsteps from above, loud thumps and sounds of magic and weapons fire being exchanged. Arthur could hear what was happening over his comm. The sorcerers had scattered. The team had lost track of one of them, but their primary target was still in sight. Percival had taken a hit, two of the sorcerers were down. Alvarr was trying to make his escape.

All of this had happened in a matter of seconds. Delta Team was just making it into the front section of the building when Arthur felt a familiar tingle which was the only warning they got before they were attacked from above.

“Down!” Arthur shouted, just as a barrage of glass shards peppered the space where he and Leon had been standing. Tristan and Gareth fell back into a rear room and he knew that they were seeking out the attackers, same as he was, same as Leon. The woman was making her way across a landing that would lead to the stairs to the front exit. Arthur knew that even if she made it that far, Owain would see to it that she didn’t get any further, but Arthur had no intention of allowing her even that much. He rolled to a kneeling position, ignoring the sting of cuts from glass that had made it through his armor as he raised his rifle, loaded with shock-charge rounds; bullets augmented by magic to disintegrate once ignited and stun a target without inflicting a wound. They had the added bonus of temporarily scrambling a sorcerer’s magic.

He didn’t have a chance to even attempt a shot, however, because the moment he moved, the woman was on him, raising a hand with fingers curled into a claw. He felt the hold of her magic as it lifted him and flung him across the room. He managed to turn his body midair to prevent a head-first impact with a wall, but he knew that his shoulder would be smarting for a while after taking the brunt of his weight when he crashed. There was a small battle waged against the woman in the front of the building, magic buzzing through the air. She was clearly a formidable opponent, but the outcome was clear. Even she had to know that she was hopelessly outnumbered.

There was something wrong with this picture.

Arthur chose not to make his way into the fray, staying down for a moment as he tried to figure out what it was he was missing. The outcome of this mission was clearly falling in their favor. They would be shutting down another magic-theft facility and taking in a group of criminals. That was what they were here for wasn’t it? To take down a circle of...

...the slight brush of magic tingling over his skin was what gave it away. Arthur would have completely missed it if not for the advantage his sensitivity gave him and the fact that he had a good amount of experience with just the spell that was at play. He thought of it as the “Ignore Me” spell, because that is essentially what it was. Subtle, careful magic that relied largely on misdirection and only marginally on magic at all.

In this case, it was allowing their target to make his escape. It was at this point that Arthur realized that the comm had been silent for far too long.

“Does anyone have eyes on the target?” he snapped into his receiver. He was greeted by silence. Great. Something had taken down their comms. Radio silence would make this operation _much_ easier.

He pulled himself to his feet as carefully and quietly as he could, thinking through the schematics of the building that he had memorized and trying to predict where Alvarr would go if he were attempting to make a quiet escape. The two main entrances were blocked, and there weren’t any other easy ways out, unless he planned to climb through jagged windows.

Arthur was a bit stumped until he realized something else. The sounds of fighting were moving closer and closer to the front of the building, leaving the back door largely ignored. He could not have asked for a more blatant declaration of intent. Making his way to the back of the building, he reached a small kitchen with a door leading to an alley behind the building where the dumpsters were kept. It was here that Arthur confronted Alvarr Quaid strolling towards the exit, calm as could be.

Arthur didn’t bother will calling out a warning to the man. He had no delusions that the sorcerer would surrender to him willingly, so he took the only logical course of action. He fired. Of course, as it turned out, Alvarr was the most powerful of the sorcerers present, made clear when he lifted a hand and deflected the stun-charge away with a shield that shone amber through the eyes of his AE goggles. Arthur dropped his rifle and pulled his handgun instead. It was loaded with inhibitor rounds; bullets for binding.

Static sounded in his ear for a moment before the radio chatter returned. Arthur could only assume that Alvarr had been the source of the disruption and had dropped the spell in favor of defending himself. He was a wise man. He would need all the help he could get if he thought Arthur would let him walk away from this.

“Step away from the door,” he ordered with a steady voice and steady hand.

“Or what?” Alvarr sneered. “You’ll shoot me? Go ahead. I’d rather die than become further fuel for Uther’s war against my kind.”

He didn’t bother repeating himself, choosing to fire instead. The command had been more for his team’s benefit anyway, informing the others that they were being misled. Alvarr returned the attack in kind, raising a shield and sending a blast of magic at him as the bullet deflected. Arthur dodged, diving to the left and rolling into a kneeled position, gun up and firing. He could hear the others responding, footfalls coming his way, but they were not coming fast enough. He wasn’t counting on the others however. He was counting on their Over-watch doing their job. All Arthur needed to do was keep Alvarr’s attention focused on what was happening inside the house to keep him from thinking about what was outside. He fired a couple more rounds at the man as he made his way for the door again, and just as Leon and Gwaine came rushing into the kitchen, a single shot was fired and Alvarr hit the ground with a startled cry. Arthur was there not a moment later with his binding cuffs, ensuring that there would be no further use of magic from the sorcerer.

“Target acquired,” Arthur announced over the comm. “Nice shot, Fang Nine.”

“Easy pickings, your highness.”

Arthur scowled at the nickname but kept his focus on the task at hand. Now that they had Alvarr, they needed to get him back to their transport and then get out of there. Fast.

“Dragon’s rendezvous at the back exit on level one. We’re getting out of--”

Before Leon could complete the command, there it was again, the feel of magic charging the air. Arthur didn’t have a chance to issue a warning before they were hit by a wall of power that shoved them all down and away. Arthur pulled his rifle up and fired a round in the direction the attack had come from, quick to pursue when he heard the sound of stumbling coming from the hall.

“Fang Three, cover!” Leon snapped, sending Gwaine after Arthur as they chased their assailant. It had taken maybe five minutes or less for the operation from start to finish, though with all that had happened, it felt like hours. In the aftermath of so much violence it was almost disturbing how quiet the building was now. The stumbling sounds that Arthur had been following seemed to be absorbed by the silence, leaving the lower level of the building dark and too quiet for his liking.

Arthur could hear his own breathing, and the oh-so-quiet shift of his feet as he took another step, but there was something else. He stepped forward, Gwaine at his back, moving along a wall towards what appeared to be a hallway. He pulled a small torch from his pocket and positioned it high while crouching low. He turned the corner and flipped the torch on in one swift movement, only to find an empty hallway and several doors to greet him. But wait... There was that sound again. Just for a brief moment. Like...shifting or breathing. He couldn’t quite place it.

There was something there, though. He could feel it as a slight tingle in the air. Someone was hiding. Someone with magic they had recently used.

“Fang One, report,” Leon’s voice spoke in his ear. It had been a good chunk of radio silence since he’d set off to follow the potential threat, but they were low on time. They needed to vanish very soon.

“Standby,” he returned, taking a couple of strides to the second door in the hallway. He felt Gwaine come up behind him as he reached the door, a reassuring presence at his back. He glanced over his shoulder, and wordlessly, the other man pulled out a torch of his own and raised his weapon at the door. Arthur lifted a hand with three fingers raise, and began counting down. When he got to one, he yanked the door open, aiming his light, along with Gwaine’s, into the opening.

There was a scream, a tangle of dirty limbs, then broken sobbing mixed with pleas.

“He didn’t mean it! Please! He didn’t know! He was just trying to protect me; to get us out! Just let us go! Please...”

The door had led to a supply closet of sorts, filled with buckets and towels and other cleaning tools. But huddled on the floor of the closet was a girl, pale with long dark hair, no older than sixteen. She was clutching the largely unresponsive body of a boy, similarly pale and dark-haired but several years younger, maybe twelve or thirteen. Children. Both thin and filthy, and the girl at least, was clearly terrified. Arthur was left reeling and feeling more than a little ill. Children. He’d fired on children.

Arthur turned to Gwaine. He could imagine the look on the other man’s face under the mask. Things just got a bit more complicated.

“We should go,” Gwaine said into the quiet of the building. It was the obvious course of action. They didn’t have much time before the local fuzz arrived, and every moment wasted was one moment closer to ruining their mission. Arthur didn’t know these children, had no obligation to do anything for them. But he had fired on children who, while not defenseless, were clearly terrified. He’d seen what was done to others with magic in places like these; the sick depravity of those so desperate to hold on to what was being lost that they turned to the most vulnerable of their kind to take what did not belong to them. Arthur would not abandon these children to that fate. He couldn’t.

Without another thought, he knelt beside the hysterical girl, puling off a glove and touching her hair in a calming manner.

“Fang One,” Gwaine warned.

“Join the others,” Arthur hissed at him. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Like hell I will,” came the predictable response, leaving Arthur with even less time to do what he wanted to do.

“Hey,” he said in a soothing voice to the girl who had finally calmed some. “Hey, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help.”

“You’re taking them away?”

Arthur assumed she was referring to the other sorcerers who were likely responsible for the theft of magic that was clearly taking place.

“We are. They can’t hurt you anymore. What’re your names?” Arthur gestured at the still-dazed boy.

“I’m Freya,” she said. “And he’s Mordred.”

Arthur nodded and reached into another pocket of his gear.

“We haven’t all day, Fang One.” Leon’s voice was insistent in his ear. “What’s the bloody hold up?!”

“Copy Fang Leader. We’ll rejoin you shortly.” He switched the receiver off again so that his voice didn’t carry to the entire unit.

“Freya, I’m going to give you something, okay? It’s a gift from a friend of mine, designed for people like you and Mordred; to keep you safe.”

He held out his hand and offered her two gold coins. She eyed him warily as she took them, examining each closely in the dim light from their torches.

“Feed a bit of your power into the charm and it will conceal your magic from anyone looking to take it from you.”

Freya looked doubtful, but she closed her hands around the coins before looking up at him. “Why are you helping us? Why would you care?”

Arthur was caught a bit flatfooted by the question. The situation was far more complicated than he even wanted to think about, let alone attempt to explain to a scared teen. “I have a very good friend who would be cross with me if I left you two without helping,” he said, smiling behind the mask at the thought of what Merlin would actually do to him if he’d turned his back on these children. ‘Cross’ was a bit of an understatement.

He also pulled a card from his pocket, handing it to her.

“If you need a safe place to stay, go to this address. You’ll find friends there.”

“We really have to go now,” Gwaine was pulling on his shoulder firmly and Arthur finally gave in. He could hear the sirens approaching. He was halted suddenly by an icy grip clamping onto his bare wrist and holding him in place. The boy’s magic was like orange mist through the goggles and it crawled over Arthur’s skin like a current of electricity, immediately calling Arthur’s attention to Mordred. Mordred, with eyes far older than his physical age, watching and seeing and knowing Arthur in ways that were too disturbing to think on properly.

“She said you would come,” he said; voice a whisper, a breath. “She said you would come, and that you would know. Follow the snake that circles the world. It will lead you to her. She will be waiting.”

The grip released and Arthur stumbled. If his nerves had been crawling before, they were full well sprinting now, climbing over each other in an attempt to escape the feeling of the boy’s magic as it lifted from him, fading like mist in the wind. Mordred lay still in Freya’s arms, as if the encounter had not happened at all. Arthur was beginning to think that he had imagined the whole thing. Then Mordred’s eyes opened and locked with his, a single word forcing its way into his thoughts.

_Go._

Gwaine was pulling him and Arthur was running. The sorcerers had already been bound and loaded into the team’s vans, and the rest of the Dragons were loaded and waiting. As they hurried towards the exit, something caught Arthur’s eye in the debris left after their operation. A bit of stone that was giving off strange readings through his goggles. He wasn’t sure why he paused to grab it. It was likely just a bit of masonry laced with residual power from the explosion. Nothing unheard of. But something about it...

He pocketed the stone and joined the rest of his team in the command van. They pulled smoothly into the back alleys as sirens finally screeched to halt at the front of the building. There would be no trace of the Dragons left, aside from the chaos and missing sorcerers. Their target had been acquired, and Arthur was fairly certain that he’d received a message from Morgana through young Mordred. All things considered, he felt that their evening had gone rather well.

 _Wait for me, Morgana,_ he thought, working his thumb over the odd bit of stone. _I’m coming. I’ll find you._


	2. Chapter 2

Central Operations for PendraCor International was located in the heart of downtown Somerset, a ways south of Camelot University where a good many of PendraCor’s employees had been educated. It was a sprawling place, made largely of glass and steel with buildings connected to buildings, labs, offices, recreation areas, fitness facilities, restaurants, and canteens, all for employees to enjoy. It was practically a small town!

Working at the PendraCor main campus was a dream for many. For others, it was so much a part of their life that the novelty of the place had long lost its luster. The sleek, modern design could feel as cold as the steel it was made from; it’s glass walls a prison keeping the outside world just out of reach.

Arthur stifled a yawn as he did his best to sit up straight in the uncomfortable wooden chair outside his father’s office so as not to wrinkle his uniform shirt or trousers. The thing looked more like a sculpture than a chair and clearly had been chosen for aesthetics rather than for practical uses like sitting. Of course, they were perfect for the look of the office, decorated with a minimalist’s eye from the frameless geometric paintings on the walls to the frosted glass door that separated Uther from his waiting area. Even the young man typing away in the corner preparing for another day of assisting Uther however needed looked like he’d been designed for the space. Arthur sighed recognizing how much the bloody chair was a metaphor for so much of what his father did. Appearances had always been important to Uther, not matter what was sacrificed for the sake of those appearances. 

At least he wasn’t alone in his suffering. Leon sat beside him on a matching monstrosity, stoically waiting in true military fashion. Leon had always been better at the obnoxious formalities. He looked like he could sit there forever if necessary, no hint of discomfort in his body language. It was only through years of friendship that Arthur could tell that the other man was just as anxious to be done with this as he was. 

These early morning meetings with the General were far from being on Arthur’s list of favorite things. He didn’t mind the hour—after growing up in a house with a man who considered it a lay-in if you were allowed to be up by sun-up instead of well before, early mornings were something that Arthur was quite acquainted with. No, it was the part where he had to meet with his father that made Arthur wish he could be anywhere else. 

The operation had run relatively well the night before, with Alvarr and his accomplices delivered safely into the hands of Uther’s Intelligence division. To anyone else, it was easily the Dragons’ biggest success since they were assigned the task of locating Morgana. But his sister was still not home safe, yet. That made the mission a failure, and in the eyes of Uther Pendragon, such a failure was unacceptable.

As commanding officer, any fault that could be found in the execution of the operation should fall to Leon. He called the shots and in turn should take the heat. They both were well aware, however, that things worked a bit differently in Uther’s world. Since the general had pulled Arthur and the other Dragons-in-training from University to continue their education independently and their training in the field, he’d laid some very high expectations on Arthur. The only reason that Uther had not put the team in Arthur’s hands as soon as the hunt for Morgana had begun was because he still had sense enough to know that putting an untested Officer Cadet in command of a trained military unit was a recipe for disaster.

However, from what Arthur could tell, in Uther’s mind, Arthur should have been ready to lead in spite of all the logical reasons that he could not. It was a failing whose blame he seemed to place fully on Arthur, and every time they returned from a mission without Morgana, Arthur could practically see his father’s disappointment with him grow deeper. And didn’t it just burn that despite all the disturbing things that Arthur had learned of his father, he still shrank in the face of the general’s disappointment?

He cleared his throat softly, shifting in his chair and causing it to squeal loudly in the quiet of the morning. It was always odd to see the PendraCor campus so still. Most of the technicians and engineers were still in transit at this hour, leaving a calm that felt full of tension to Arthur. Likely because the only times he was on the premises at this hour were when he had to meet with his father. It was hard to believe that after all that Arthur had accomplished in his life, after the achievements and successes that outshone most anyone else his age, the very thought of his father’s disappointment was enough to make him feel like a child again. That, above all else, was what he hated about these meetings. No matter what he did, it seemed as if there would never be anything good enough to earn his father’s praise. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but one he was able to accept more with each passing day as he found his own path. He could just imagine his father’s face if he knew what Arthur was up to whilst he was not looking. 

It was ironic really. In the past months, as the speed of magic’s decay had increased in Albion and the world at large, Uther had become one of the most outspoken supporters of sorcerers and finding ways to keep their magic alive. He was adamant about offering aide to sorcerers by getting his enhancers out to the entire magic community. Of course, this was a ploy of some kind. Uther had made it clear on several occasions his opinion of sorcerers and how they couldn’t be trusted with the power they were born to. The question was what Uther was really up to, and whilst his father wore the mask of friendship to achieve his goals, Arthur lie in wait to discover his plans and ruin them as only Arthur could. 

“It’ll be fine,” Leon said, startling Arthur from his thoughts. The other man was so still and quiet, Arthur had practically forgotten that he was there. “We achieved our objective last night. There’s not a lot he can say about this one.” 

Arthur’s mouth twitched up in a wry smile. “It’s a lovely dream, Captain, but we both know—” 

The door to his father’s office swung open, cutting off the comment. Arthur stood, preparing to enter, but halted when a tall, hawkish looking man exited. His white-blonde hair was slicked back with product, his weathered skin covered in so many tattoos it was difficult to tell what his natural skin tone had once been. There was something very off about the man; something that set Arthur’s skin to crawling and sparked a familiar tugging sensation just behind his navel. He tensed as those hawkish eyes fell on him, watching him shrewdly for a long moment. Arthur had no idea what to make of the man or the look, but he knew instinctively that he didn’t like either. Before he could give a proper response, his father’s voice broke the tension of the moment. 

“Arthur, Captain Knightly, you may enter,” he called. Arthur looked away and stepped towards the open door, pausing as Leon entered first and taking the opportunity to direct a final look to the man’s back as he retreated down the hall. When the man turned a corner, Arthur pushed all thoughts of him to the side for later examination. He needed to focus his attention on more pressing matters. Like attempting to appease a father who accepted nothing short of the impossible as success.

He strode into the office and took his place at Leon’s side, standing at attention and waiting to be acknowledged. The General proceeded to ignore them both, reading through something on a small tablet he was holding as he reclined behind the large wooden desk that took up a not insignificant portion of the corner office.

He scrolled through the information slowly, tapping here, typing there, going about his business as if his son and one of his senior officers were not standing before him waiting for his attention. Arthur was just beginning to fight off the urge to fidget when Uther finally spoke. 

“There was another attack on one of our major distribution centers last night,” he said, eyes never leaving his tablet. “The third this month. Another fifteen hundred of our Arcana line of products damaged or destroyed by these renegades.” At this he set the tablet down, removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Such ungrateful creatures, these sorcerers. Even when given a chance at taking their fading power back, they still choose to slap away the hand of friendship I offer and instead turn to this barbaric method of theft, stealing power from mundane and arcane alike.” He pushed the tablet away as if disgusted.

Arthur maintained a neutral face, even while his insides seethed at this father’s hypocrisy.

“This must be stopped,” Uther said, looking up at last, cutting his eyes towards the two men standing before him. “I will not suffer the citizens of this good country to be terrorized by these vermin. I’ve read through your report, Captain. Thorough as usual. Please share my commendations with the rest of your team for a job well done. There are additional matters that I would like to discuss with my son. He will bring you my report when we have finished. For now, you are dismissed.” 

“Sir!” Leon offered a smart salute, taking Uther’s departure from standard procedure in stride, as he always did. Usually, any information a team needed was given directly to their captain, and a more thorough debrief would take place after such a major operation. They both knew why Leon was being dismissed, and Arthur could do nothing but mentally brace himself as best he could as he was left alone to take on the full brunt of his father’s displeasure. Nothing unusual there. 

“Now,” Uther began, after a few beats of silence once the door was closed. “I’d like to hear what happened from you, Arthur.”

Arthur recognized that particular note of disapproval in his father’s voice well, but could only guess at its source. All he could do was report as ordered, so he did. He gave a concise but detailed explanation of the operation that had taken place the night before and his role in it, leaving out certain specifics that Uther didn’t need to know about. His father’s hatred of magic and those who were born with it had made itself more apparent in recent months as matters in the magic world drew closer and closer to crisis. With the added personal knowledge that Uther had taken sorcerers in the past against their will and stripped them of their magic, and was likely still doing so, Arthur knew that he had to keep Merlin’s involvement in the weapons they used the strictest of secrets, and Uther could never know that Arthur had helped two sorcerers escape. 

“The target was delivered for interrogation at twenty-three thirty last night,” he finished. 

“Yes, he was,” Uther agreed. Arthur hated it when his father agreed with him. It always felt like a trap, and usually was. “He was delivered and interrogated last night, along with his colleagues. Would you like to know what we discovered?” 

Arthur said nothing, knowing the question required no answer. 

“It would seem that Morgana had been there, in that very building, not one day before your team arrived.” 

Arthur swallowed back the bile and bitterness that arose with that revelation. So close... 

“Less than one day, Arthur,” Uther repeated. “Hours. Perhaps had you been more vigilant, you would have made it there in time to bring her home!” 

Arthur took several deep breaths through his nose, eyes carefully focused out the window behind his father’s desk as he fought to control his temper. This was nothing new. It seemed that Uther’s favorite pastime was blaming Morgana’s abduction on Arthur. 

“Father,” he began, voice steady but only just. “You know that we have been exhausting every resource for the past six months to find her.” 

“Have you? I’m beginning to wonder.”

Arthur bit back his reply to that. How dare his father insinuate that Arthur was not doing everything in his power to find Morgana and get her back? Uther had changed since that day at the school when everything fell apart. While he had never been a particularly fuzzy sort, there had always been faint signs of affection; signs that despite his failings, Uther was a father who loved his children. All vestiges of warmth had seemingly evaporated over the past few months, and the General only seemed to grow colder and harder the longer Morgana’s abduction continued. 

“You were the one who exposed her to that boy. Sorcerous filth hiding within your own ranks. Were you not my own son I would wonder if you had been intentionally hiding him from me, but I refuse to believe that you would betray me in such a way.” 

Arthur sighed inside and settled in for another one of his father’s rants. This was not the first time that he’d heard these words, and he was sure that it would not be the last. Not until Morgana was found, and Arthur was beginning to wonder if it would be safe to bring her home at all. Much as he hated to think about it, he didn’t know what state Morgana would be in after her captivity, didn’t know how she would be responding to the steady fade of magic in the world, and if something were to happen and Uther were to find out about Morgana’s power... 

The knowledge was old, but it still pained Arthur that he didn’t trust his father. He hadn’t for a while. Not since a chance encounter with a twig of a boy who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut upended his life the year before. Merlin. Despite his father’s harsh words ringing through his ears, a line of warmth traveled from his chest to his groin, settling to pool in that spot low in his belly. There was not a day that went by that Arthur didn’t think of Merlin and wonder where he was, how he was doing. Perhaps most importantly, what he was doing.

Rumors had spread like wildfire through the magical community that the Emrys had been found. The Sorcerers of the world had a leader again after nearly twenty years going without, but their Emrys was proving to have a tendency towards the mysterious. He had yet to announce or show himself formally at all, and that absence was beginning to raise doubts of his ability in some and doubts of his existence in others.

“...reason to believe that the boy is not all he claimed to be. 

Arthur tuned in very quickly to his father’s last words, clearly referring to Merlin. He felt his heartrate increase in concern. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now,” Uther continued. “The sorcerers seem to believe that they have an Emrys again, one who has been in hiding all these years, but is now making his presence known. I have reason to believe that this Emrys is the one responsible for the attacks on our distribution centers. And there is evidence that suggests the boy could be involved; possibly could himself be the mysterious Emrys who has yet to be seen.” 

Arthur had to fight very hard to feign indifference. His thoughts were flooded with the possible outcomes of his father learning Merlin’s secret, none of them good.

“Do you see how insidious the work is of these creatures, Arthur? They are corrupt to the core. The power they possess warping them from within. You thought the boy was a friend, but the whole time you knew him, he was lying to you. I have no doubt that he played a part in your sister’s kidnapping, working through you to get to her. To what end, I won’t even try to imagine, but you will get her back. You will not allow any past feelings of camaraderie to cause you to hesitate, and you will do whatever you must to end him and bring Morgana home. Dismissed.” 

The abrupt end to the discussion left Arthur reeling. He gave a smart salute to the General, turned on his heel and exited. As soon as he was out of the office, he took a moment to school his features before turning and continuing down the hall towards the building’s exit, thoughts rushing through his mind as he went. He knew that it was likely that his father would make the connections – he was one of the greatest scientific minds of his time, after all – but that knowledge didn’t prepare him for the fist to the gut of knowing that his father was aware of Merlin’s true identity. 

His mind couldn’t help but drift back to that night so many months before; the frantic terror of it and the chaos that followed. His lips tingled at the memory of a warm, wet mouth; a body arching under his touch. Even after all this time, he could still taste Merlin’s pleasure on his tongue. A taste that soured with fear and pain as the memory of the rest of that evening came back to him. So much had happened so quickly, he still had a hard time processing it all. He remembered those few perfect moments in his residence on the couch with Merlin moaning under him, then the pounding of his heart as Merlin cried out in broken-hearted agony, pushing away from him and sprinting madly out the door. 

Arthur had called his team together then, knowing somehow that something horrible had happened. He’d been right. They’d faced off with two of the most powerful sorceresses alive and discovered that they were holding Morgana in thrall. She was already lost then, though he hadn’t known it at the time. He’d only known that the women he was facing were dangerous, and that Merlin needed him. That had been the night Arthur learned of Merlin’s status as Emrys, and immediately had colorfully demonstrated why it had been so important for Merlin to have hidden for so long. 

The memories always got fuzzy at this point. There were still many holes in his recollection, and he knew he had Merlin and Emrys to thank for that, sending a tiny shiver up his spine. He had only just learned about the legend of Emrys that night as well, but he had first-hand experience with the creature. He clearly remembered staring into the uncaring eyes of that stranger who wore Merlin’s face. He remembered the dispassion with which Emrys assessed a situation and decided upon a course of action; a beautiful and terrifying sight. Terrifying enough to spook Morgause into fleeing and taking Morgana with her. 

When it was over, Arthur’s mind had been oddly blank of the past several minutes, leaving him scrambling for figurative footing as he found himself alone in the ruined garden, Gaius and the rest of his Dragons calling for him from the entrance. Uther had come, and Arthur had told him an altered version of the events that had taken place. He’d told his father most of what had happened, but when it came to telling where Merlin had gone, he found that he could only say that the other boy had run away. His magic discovered, Merlin had run. To his knowledge, that was the story that his father believed. So how had he drawn the conclusion that Merlin was the mysterious Emrys they were just starting to hear rumors about? 

“You look dimmer than usual there, princess.” A warm body appeared at Arthur’s side, drawing him from his musings. He didn’t need to look to know that it was Gwaine, his usual cavalier smile in place. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Not here,” Arthur grumbled. “Where are the others?” 

“Waiting to hear from their fearless leader in the barracks.” 

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. “I’m no more leader of this outfit than you are, and you know it, Gwaine.” 

Not that his father saw it that way. The entire team knew that it was only a matter of time before command was taken from Leon and given to Arthur. He was just glad that the team didn’t seem to hold it against him. Probably because they could see that it wasn’t something Arthur was exactly thrilled about himself. 

He pushed those thoughts from his mind as he made his way across the PendraCor campus, Gwaine at his side. ‘The Barracks’ was the name that his team had given to the small bungalow they’d been given on campus to store their tools, gather information, and plan attacks when they weren’t at their main base. The fact that Uther was essentially funding and controlling his own small division of the Albion Armed Forces was not exactly legal, but with all that Uther was providing in weapons and consumer technology, it came as no small surprise that no one was making any efforts to stop him. Even when he was brazen enough to host soldiers on his company’s property. 

“The conference room has been cleared?”

Gwaine clutched at his chest in his usual melodramatic manner. “I’m crushed. You don’t trust us to follow SOP?” 

Arthur knew damn well that Gwaine and the others knew how important it was to sweep any of their meeting locations for bugs. Security sweeps were required anywhere near PendraCor labs, and doubly so for the military units on the campus. But that wasn’t the kind of clearance that Arthur was referring to. The discussion would undoubtedly turn to magic, possibly in ways that his father would not approve of. The last thing that they needed was to be overheard. There was an entirely different kind of sweep that they had access to, again, thanks to the mysterious packages Arthur had been receiving for the past half-year. 

Gwaine’s seemingly noncommittal response verified that not only was the room clear of bugs, magical or otherwise, but that there were no hangers-on wandering about. The least pleasant experience for all involved were the times when the Dragons had to share space with other members of the special forces that sometimes visited looking for weapons upgrades of a non-standard variety. 

“Good,” Arthur said as he made his way to join the team. “I have news.” He didn’t say much more on the way to the barracks as his mind was occupied with other things. Like how much of this he was going to be sharing with the team as a whole. It was one thing to share information about Merlin with his core group--Gwaine, Lance, Percival, Elyan; the ones that he’d been placed in charge of when they were all still at uni. It was a different story altogether to share that information with the other members of the Dragons. 

They were good men, all, but they had been living in a world poisoned by the lies his father had been spreading for years. He wasn’t sure where they stood in terms of magic and those who wielded it. He was sure that they were unaware of what his father was doing with the sorcerers they captured, but he didn’t know how they would react once they found out. Being his father’s son, it was difficult to suss out people’s true feelings about the way things worked at PendraCor because everyone assumed that he shared in his father’s views fully. If only they knew how far from the truth that really was. 

“I want to meet with the others.” he told Gwaine as they approached their briefing room. “Our place, after the briefing.” 

“On it, your highness.” 

“None of that today, Gwaine,” Arthur grumbled, not rising to the bait as he usually would. “I’m in no mood for it.” 

“Gods, cheer up Arthur!” the other man laughed as they walked through the door. “Whatever the General told you can’t be all that bad. You look like you’ve just learned one of your bollocks is falling off!” 

“That would be a right tragedy,” Owain called out. “He’s only got the one last I checked.”

“Right, and you would know, wouldn’t you?” Percival called back. 

“Can’t help I’ve got a proper view in the communals.” 

The comment was met with raucous laughter and Arthur felt some of the tension leave his body. He’d spent almost every day of the past six months with these men. They were his brothers in arms, and as close to family as he had ever known. Closer in some cases. There was a lot that Arthur had to worry about, many things that were dangerous and wrong happening around him, and divisive actions that would need to be taken, but for the time being, it was good enough to be amongst friends after the morning he’d just had. He felt a smile pull at his lips as the banter continued around him. 

“Clearly not proper enough,” Gwaine returned, happily jumping into the train of conversation, throwing an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “We all know our Wart has a pair of big, hairy, heavy, dangling--” 

“I do plan on starting this briefing some time this century, Gwaine.” Leon drawled, taking his place at the front of the group, thus cutting Gwaine off before he really got going. It was a well-known fact that Gwaine could go on for ages once he hit his stride. 

“Just being a good mate, sir,” the other man smiled cheekily, tossing his hair back with a shake of his head. 

“Try keeping your sweaty pants off my face towel,” Arthur drawled. “It’d go a sight farther, I’d say.” 

Snickers peppered the room as Leon gave a long-suffering sigh before clearing his throat. The room settled as the team shifted their minds to business. Now that Arthur had arrived the briefing could begin. 

“Well,” Leon began, “I haven’t much to say since the General only saw fit to have me pass his commendations to the team for an operation well done.” There were a few snorts of laughter in response to this. “Seeing as Arthur was with the General for a while after I left, I can only assume that he’ll be able to give a more thorough overview of our next objective?” 

All eyes turned to Arthur, something that was frustratingly growing increasingly more commonplace. It wasn’t that Arthur had a problem with speaking to the team and disseminating information on his father’s behalf, it was the simple fact that it wasn’t really his place. This was information that should have been given to and coming from Leon. But his father would have his way, so Arthur shook off the irritation as usual and offered what information he had. 

“The General was not best pleased that we did not come home with Morgana, as usual. But he was in a particularly foul mood because apparently, we were a day short in being there at the same time as she was being held there.” The team remained silent at the news, expressions speaking of the same frustration that Arthur felt. “We’re to redouble our efforts in finding her.” This did spark a few derisive snorts in the room but Arthur ignored them. “The General has a new theory on who has taken Morgana, and it might prove useful in our search.” 

This immediately got the team’s full attention, but it was here that Arthur hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should proceed from this point. Bringing up his father’s theory about the Emrys’ involvement in Morgana’s kidnapping would mean explaining about Merlin, who, to date, had not been mentioned to the rest of the team. Only those who had been there knew of Merlin and his magic and how it had anything to do with Arthur. He examined his thoughts carefully, considering the possible long-term ramifications of this briefing; of anything he might say, anything he might expose. These were intelligent men he was working with. He was certain that once he began, there would be questions and the very real possibility of getting talked into a position where he would be forced to explain more than he was ready to. He couldn’t be sure of the outcome were he to reveal everything to these men, so he did the only thing he could: he stalled.

“What have you heard about these rumors of a new Emrys surfacing within the magical community?” He asked, hoping for inspiration and at least some idea of how the others might respond to Arthur’s connection to and knowledge of the sorcerer’s Emrys.

“Load of bollocks and pixie-dust if you ask me,” Pellinore muttered. The comment was clearly not for the group, but the room was small and everyone was sitting close. It was impossible for the words to go unheard. Arthur smirked on the inside. Inspiration. 

“Speak up, soldier,” Arthur barked, without heat. It was an expected method of address and no one in the team even blinked at the sudden change of tone. “You have an opinion, let’s hear it.” 

All eyes fell on the team’s technical expert. The position he held made Pellinore one of the most logical thinkers in the group. The moment a problem was presented he was outlining possible solutions, and he was always the first to point out possible flaws in any strategies they devised. A gruff type, he was thin and dark but made of solid muscle. Quiet until you got him going, then all bets were off. It was Pell’s tendency to run off at the mouth that Arthur was counting on now, and he could tell that there was a rant fresh on the other man’s mind, ripe and ready to fall.

“Well it hardly makes sense, does it?” Pellinore started, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his seat. He had that look about him like what he was saying was obvious and anyone who didn’t get it was clearly too dumb to bother with. “Middle of the biggest magic drought the world has ever seen, and where is he? ‘He’s in hiding,’ they say. ‘He’s protecting himself. Keeping safe from his enemies.’ What bloody fuckin’ enemies!? What’s he got to hide from?” 

“You see the shite that lot’s doing to latents and each other and you’re askin’ that?” Owain countered, and Arthur felt himself tense just so. He hadn’t missed the way their sniper had summarily grouped magic users as though all sorcerers were to blame for the acts of a twisted few. 

“But that’s just it!” Pellinore was getting into his stride now, sitting forward and looking each of them in the eye as he continued speaking. “The way the sorcerers are talking, this ain’t just any Emrys. This one’s supposed to be more powerful than anything anyone’s seen before. Makes the last Emrys look like a schoolchild and she’d been the strongest sorcerer born in ten generations. If this Emrys is supposed to be so great, then why’s he hiding? If he really had all that power, nothin’d be able to touch him.” 

“You’re forgetting,” Arthur was mildly surprised to hear Lance’s steady voice join the discussion. “It’s barely been eighteen years since Emrys Vivianne passed. If there is an Emrys, he’d just be coming into his full potential. The Mark that would seal his power to him would have just barely finished forming. Until that point, he would have been just as vulnerable as any other sorcerer to having his power stolen. Worse, now, it seems as though the thieves are close to finding a way to steal magic from even those whose power is supposed to be Safe.” 

“All the more reason that this Emrys should be here for his people. Sorcerers suffering, magic fading, and the best we get is rumors that some all-powerful Emrys is biding his time, waiting for the right moment to make himself known? Bull. Shite.” He accented each word with an emphatic finger jab in Lance’s direction. “All that power, plus an army of Warrior-Priest bodyguards, and he still won’t show his face? If there really were an Emrys, he’d sure as shite be doing a piss poor job of it.” 

“No,” he continued, jaw working head shaking as if he were figuring out his thoughts as he spoke. “It’s textbook. A coping mechanism. Magic is fading. The sorcerers‘ bowels are loosening over it. There’s no sign of the Drought ending. People’s friends are vanishing into the night like a bad horror film; days and nights of constant fear. Out of nowhere, someone starts talking about this Emrys. But not just any Emrys. Uh-uh, any old Emrys won’t do. We have to have one who is made of magic.” 

Arthur creased his brow hearing this. The rumors were so far sounding uncomfortably close to the truth. He had a sneaking suspicion that Merlin’s Catha bodyguard/agents were responsible for spreading these tales and making the significance of Merlin’s existence known to all. 

“Next thing you know he’s actually here to bring magic back; to take us back to the good ole’ days when you couldn’t take a piss without stumblin’ over something mystical. He’s a saviour. Gonna swoop down like some god from a machine and make everyone and everything happy again.” 

Heads around the room were nodding as they followed the other man’s logic. Pell was good at this. Even though Arthur knew for a fact that the man was wrong, he couldn’t deny that the argument made a lot of sense. 

“This Emrys is the only hope the poor sods have that all of this is ever gonna end, ever gonna get better.” Pellinore made a small gesture with his hands, fingers curled then splayed as though flicking something into the air. “Bollocks and pixie-dust,” he said once more. “I just hope to be somewhere far, far away when the fairytale ends.” 

The room fell into silence with those sobering words. Things were already bad. It was almost impossible to imagine what would happen if this last spark of hope were lost for a people already suffering so much. 

“But I thought PendraCor’s Arcana line was supposed to be helping with all of this.” 

Arthur hid a smile at the timid voice of Owain’s brother Gareth. He wasn’t the youngest among them, but he seemed to be, with his huge brown eyes and quiet disposition. Always hesitant to offer anything to the discussion or speak at all, really. It was hard to believe that he was in any way related to a loudmouth like Owain, or that he had any business working with the Dragons. That is, until you realized that the two brothers shared the record for shot accuracy both long and short range, and that Gareth could hack just about anything that resembled a computer in five minutes or less. 

“Wasn’t that the whole point of even developing the magic enhancers?” he asked. “To help sorcerers get their power back? Aren’t they working?” 

“Oh they’re working alright,” Gwaine answered, voice lacking any of his usual mirth. “Working a little too well.” 

That only caused Gareth’s brow to crease deeply in confusion. Tristan, sitting beside him, offered a wide smile and an explanation: 

“The enhancers do work, but they’re like any other piece of technology. They need power to keep going, but the power cells they run on can only last so long. There have been a few instances of sorcerers suffering mild symptoms of withdrawal when the power in the enhancers runs dry.” 

“And guess who the only supplier of the power cells happens to be,” Gwaine added, giving Gareth a significant look. 

“But the cells are affordable,” Gareth argued. “I’ve heard the General speaking on how he wants to make sure that anyone who needs the enhancers would have access to them.” 

“It would still be putting a great deal of trust and dependency in the hands of another,” Tristan pointed out, not unkindly. “There are many sorcerers who don’t trust that PendraCor’s intentions are as altruistic as they seem.” 

Tristan didn’t realize how much of an understatement that truly was. Arthur knew that his father was keeping the attacks on their distribution centers quiet, and for good reason. From the reports that Arthur had seen, it was obvious that the attacks were magical in nature, and there would be too much suspicion if the public were to learn that sorcerers were going to such great lengths to keep the devices off the market. Suspicion and concern that Arthur was feeling himself, the more he thought about his father’s behaviours and possible motivations. 

Gareth was nodding as he processed what he’d just learned, and Tristan turned his eyes back to Arthur, brows raised. Arthur had to suppress the urge to shift uncomfortably. Friendly as the guy was, Arthur always got the impression that Tristan could see straight through him, an impression that was proven accurate, in this instance, when the man quirked his lips into a ghost of a smile and asked: 

“So, what does any of this have to do with your conversation with the General, Arthur?”

Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgement. He’d stalled for time long enough. “The General believes that this rumored Emrys is responsible for Morgana’s disappearance,” he said, ignoring the wave of murmurs that swept the room. Here, he hesitated for just a moment before continuing, but the previous discussion had given him enough information to make a decision. “Furthermore, he has uncovered a possible identity for the Emrys. The information should have been transferred to your tablets by now.”

Arthur reached into his thigh pocket and pulled out the small tablet they’d each been assigned for the collection and distribution of mission data. He typed in his personal security code to unlock the device. As he suspected, there was a “New File” notification waiting for him on the screen. He tapped it to open the file, heart clenching as an achingly familiar face appeared. Big ears, goofy grin, wild dark hair, and eyes that were blue like crystal, piercing even when full of joy and laughter. He looked nothing at all like a dangerous criminal, and Arthur had to wonder who was responsible for selecting that particular image for the file. 

“Gentlemen,” he announced, flipping the tablet so that the image was facing the rest of his team. “Allow me to present our target: one Merlin Ambrose.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“So...I couldn’t help but notice that you left a few details out of the briefing, Arthur.” It was Elyan who brazenly broached the subject the moment that Gwaine chose to grace them with his presence. Conversation had centered around football and independent studies assignments up until that point; Mercia’s chances against Escetia in the match that weekend and how much worse classes and assignments were now that they were stuck with working on their own and answering to the base tutor. It had always been an unspoken agreement that team business was not discussed unless the whole team was present. How Gwaine managed to be the last one to arrive when he had been the first to leave was a mystery beyond Arthur’s comprehension. Then again, he’d given up on comprehending Gwaine long ago.

The jangle of keys and the swish of an opening door was the cue that they were ready to get down to business, and the question was out of Elyan’s smirking mouth the moment the door swung shut. Gwaine, of course, was the one to respond despite the fact that the words were clearly not meant for him.

“‘Tis all part of Her Majesty’s master plan,” he said without missing a beat, snagging a beer as he settled onto the back of the couch. Arthur had given up on trying to get Gwaine to understand that furniture was meant to be sat _in_ not on. He counted it as a win that Gwaine had at least taken his shoes of before settling them on the seat cushion. “It all makes sense for those of us in the know.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as Gwaine gave a wink and a thumbs-up, implicating Arthur in his fantasy of accomplices. He took a long draw from his own bottle as the snits set in.

“Oy!” Percival kicked it off, “why does Gwaine know what’s going on whilst the rest of us are left in the dark?” 

“Because I’m the best mate, that’s why,” Gwaine answered, gleeful in the discord he was sewing, though he had to know it wouldn’t last long. “Arfur tells me everything. We have a close intimacy between us that way.”

“Gwaine’s full of shit,” Arthur ended the game before the conversation became too sidetracked. “You all should know better than to listen to anything that comes out of his mouth. I haven’t told him anything and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And will you _please_ stop with the names? You’re giving the others ideas.” The last was directed at Gwaine. His recent habit of creating pet-names for Arthur was just getting out of hand. 

“Don’t act like you don’t secretly love it, Goldilocks,” Gwaine grinned at him, “And of course I know what I’m talking about! There’s a keen mind behind all these good looks.” He saluted with his drink, sharing his grin with the rest of the team before continuing. “His highness, the pampered Princess of PendraCor here, is contemplating full disclosure to the rest of the unit.” 

The response from the room at large varied from looks of surprise to piqued interest. All eyes turned to Arthur to hear his response. Arthur shot Gwaine a neutral glare, a look that, according to Gwaine, only Arthur could manage. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” the other man challenged. Of course, Arthur couldn’t. Gwaine could read him too well, and clearly, their time living together for the past half a year had only served to improve that particular talent. 

He sighed in resignation. This was as good a start to the conversation as any. “It is possible,” he admitted, “that part of the reason that I called you all here today was to get your opinions on the inclusion of the rest of our team in the supplementary activities that we’ve been participating in.”

“Ever the proper princess,” Gwaine muttered into his beer. 

“But that isn’t the only matter on the table,” Arthur continued, shooting Gwaine a not-so-neutral glare this time. “There are several matters in need of discussion, and we haven’t much time.”

“What else is there?” Ever practical, Lance leaned forward asking as much with his expression as with his words. 

“We’ve received news from—“ 

“Whoa now, just one minute there, lads!” Elyan again. “You can’t just drop a grenade like that and sweep it to the side. Did I hear correctly? You’re really thinking about bringing Pell, O and the others in?” 

Arthur had been hoping to set the idea aside for a bit, but it was clear that at least one of his men was very much interested in the prospect of cluing the rest of their unit in on what PendraCor was really about. It came as no surprise that it would be Elyan. He, Owain, and Pellinore were close and it was clear that he did not enjoy lying to them so regularly. 

“It was a thought,” Arthur said, settling in to open this particular can of worms. “One I would like to have the team’s opinion on.” 

There was a long moment in which no one spoke. Arthur was fine with that. He stood to retrieve himself a glass of water and waited. He was pleased that despite the eagerness Elyan was expressing, he was at least pausing to really consider the matter before offering an opinion. Arthur returned to his seat. The silence lingered for a bit, sounds of cars and people filtering in from the outside, then: 

“I think Gareth would be fine,” Percival offered. Generally a man of few words, Percival had a discerning mind within his bulky exterior, and when he did speak, others tended to listen. “He’s already weepy about what’s going on with the magic users. He’d be right livid if he knew what was really happening, and I think he’d be happy to do something to help. Tristan, I can’t read. Anything could be going on behind that face he’s got. Pell and Own...” he tilted his head, showing his uncertainty. “It could go either way.” 

“I agree,” Lance added. “Owain doesn’t exactly speak favorably about magic, but he doesn’t really speak favorably about anything. Including the things he likes best.” 

“Usually those are the things he bad-mouths most,” said Elyan with a fond grin. “The key to O is Gareth. Where Gar goes, big brother will follow. As for Pellinore, he thinks that this Emrys business is a waste of our time. If we could offer proof, _show_ him what’s been happening, he’d jump at the chance to set things right.” 

“Can’t wait to see his face when he finally meets Merlin,” Gwaine snickered as his contribution to the discussion.

“ _IF_ he meets Merlin,” Arthur snapped immediately. “We will not risk exposing him unless we are absolutely sure that the others can be trusted.” 

“Whoa, of course, easy there, Princess,” Gwaine said, fighting back a smirk. “Didn’t realize that your royal high-arsedness was also such a mother bear.” 

Arthur ignored Gwaine’s teasing. He didn’t care what the others thought; Merlin’s safety was at the very top of his list of priorities right alongside Morgana’s. They were the two most important people in his life, and the fact that he was separated from both of them with no clue to the whereabouts of either was slowly driving him mad. 

“We’re going to play this exactly as my father expects,” he went on. “He wants us to look for the Emrys. That’s exactly what we’re going to do, and we’re going to find him _before_ my father does. I want you all to work with the others to gather whatever intel you can. Gauge their opinions, listen to the way they talk. When we meet again two days from now, I want your best recommendations, understood?” he paused, confused for a moment. The odd hours they ran were making all of his days blend together. “What day is it?” 

“Wednesday,” Elyan helpfully supplied. 

“Right. We’ll meet to talk about the team on Friday evening and decide how to proceed from there as well as confer on a few other matters at hand. Are we good to move on to the next subject?” He met each set of eyes around the room and received nods from all. “Excellent. In that case, we’ve received reports from Mithian and Gwen with some interesting information,” he paused, knowing that he was about to unleash another volatile topic upon his team. He really should have grabbed something stronger than beer for this conversation. “I’ve also found a potential lead on Morgana’s whereabouts.” 

This one was accompanied by a round of choking, coughing, and a full spit-take in the case of Lance. 

“Arthur, _what?!_ ” the medic demanded, blotting beer and spittle from his clothes and the floor around him. Arthur sighed knowing that Gwen and Mithian’s reports would have to wait a bit longer. 

“What lead? When did this happen?” It was almost funny how much Lance’s usual composer had broken, but Arthur understood the other man’s reaction. Gwen and Morgana had been close, growing up, and when Gwen had found out that Morgana was missing, her distress was obvious. Lance would have given everything he could to find Morgana no matter the circumstance, but Gwen’s concern was an added incentive that raised the stakes for him.

“If you’ve found a lead, then why didn’t you say anything about it at the briefing?” Elyan demanded. “Do we really need to have a discussion about sharing relevant information, Arthur?” 

“Ease up on him, mates!” Gwaine interjected. “The man is sharing at the first opportunity, and before you say anything else, Ely, it wasn’t exactly the kind of lead one could let slip anywhere near the heart of PendraCor.” 

Gwaine’s adamant words calmed the team significantly, especially as the implications of his last words sunk in.

“So what exactly is this lead?” Percival voiced the question on everyone’s mind.

Arthur swallowed back a bit of discomfort. Though he knew, without doubt, that his men supported magic users and worked daily to protect their rights, they hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with many sorcerers with significant power. They had the trick weapons that Merlin had sent, and the arcane technology that his father provided, but they didn’t regularly deal directly with magic, and what Arthur was about to reveal was a power viewed with suspicion even in a world where magic was known and accepted.

“At the end of the mission,” he began slowly, “we were attacked by another sorcerer. Gwaine and I stayed behind to investigate.” 

All heads in the room nodded recalling the incident the night before. 

“The sorcerer who attacked us was a boy,” he explained. “He lashed out in an attempt to save himself and a friend from what they both thought would be another attack against them. We tracked them to a storage closet and he told me that Morgana had been there. That she knew that we would come. She left a message.” 

He paused, mind getting lost in the cryptic words. Part of him was hesitant to continue knowing full well that the words could just as easily have been gibberish from the addled mind of a boy who had clearly been traumatised. But no. He remembered the shiver of power moving over his skin, the ancient knowledge in the boy’s eyes. It had been prophecy; a gift that was rare, but still very real. The question was whether the substance of the message had been from Morgana or if it had been Mordred’s power that had offered the clue. 

“Well don’t leave us in suspense, Arthur.” Lance’s voice broke into his thoughts, startling Arthur into the realization that he’d been sitting there in silent contemplation for some seconds. 

“‘Follow the snake that circles the world’,” he quoted. “That’s what he told me. Apparently that is supposed to lead us to her somehow.”

“Is it a riddle, do you think?” this, from Percival.

“Of course it’s a riddle,” Gwaine answered. “Unless you know of any snakes with a penchant for flying ‘round the world.” 

“Or one big enough to literally go all the way around,” Elyan added. “What could it mean?” 

“That’s what we’re to try and figure out. All of us. When we meet on Friday, I want to hear your best guesses, and I want to hear all of them. At this point there is no suggestion too ridiculous.” 

There were nods all around, some along with quick notes on paper or into smart phones. Arthur waited, pleased that his team was taking the information seriously despite its source. They could have easily questioned the validity of a line of rubbish from an unknown sorcerer, and would have been well in the right to do so, but this was a lead; the first lead they’d managed on their own since the search began. They were all willing to look into it and hope for the best. 

Arthur turned to Gwaine. “What news from Mithian?”

There had been many developments over the months since Merlin had been forced to flee, not the least of which being the inclusion of Gwen and her small circle of friends into the matters at hand in Arthur’s world. When Camelot University’s central garden had nigh been destroyed, Merlin had vanished, and Uther had demanded that the Dragons be pulled out of uni in order to go immediately into active duty, there had been no helping it. Gwen was going to ask questions, and they all knew that after the Great Misunderstanding of the year before, there was nothing that Lance would deny her. She’d gotten enough information out of him to know that there was something more going on with Arthur’s Dragons, and the rest had spiraled well out of Arthur’s control. 

But things had worked out better than he could have imagined. The ladies had shown their commitment to the cause and all taken steps to be strategically placed to support Arthur’s mission in whatever way they could. Gwen’s father was one of PendraCor’s lead engineers, and it was a spot of luck that his daughter hadn’t fallen far from that particular branch of the tree. She had managed an internship that might give them access to sensitive information. It was their best shot at finding the labs where PendraCor was developing the ‘synthetic magic’ that was the hallmark of the company. Elena had been so outraged when she’d learned of what PendraCor was doing that she’d withdrawn from CU immediately. She now worked with a non-profit group who, on the surface, served as a resource to help sorcerers cope with the loss of magic whilst secretly assisting in the relocation of sorcerers seeking asylum. She had been an invaluable contact for the team as victims of Charging Stations became more common. 

Then there was Mithian. They all played crucial roles in the mission to end PendraCor’s abuse of the magical community, but Mithian’s work was vital in more than one way. She had completed her studies at Camelot U and immediately gone to work with her father in pharmaceutical research. This gave her access to the resources needed to conduct objective research on the impact of fading magic on the magical community, and more importantly, the effects of using enhancement technology to augment one’s magic. This research would be needed to make a case against Uther and PendraCor. They would need evidence to prove that the enhancers negatively impacted those who used them. In addition to this, the research would hopefully also find a way to help those suffering from any ill effects of the enhancers. 

Gwaine was their regular contact for Mithian, and it had become clear early on that he was smitten by her beauty. His face at the moment, however, was missing the usual glazed, dreamy look he sported when offering his reports. Clearly the news was less than positive. 

“They’re still conducting studies on what those _things_ are really doing to people,” Gwaine said, jaw clenching in clear disgust. “Some of the sorcerers decided to give up the enhancers when they realized that there were side effects after using them. So far, the ‘mild symptoms of withdrawal’ as Tristan so kindly put it, only get worse the longer one goes without. It’s gotten so bad that they have no choice in the end. Any sorcerer who starts using one of those things can’t stop.” 

Arthur remembered the bitterness in Gwaine’s voice back at the briefing. Gwaine must have only recently received that information. No wonder the discussion had made him so livid. 

“So that’s what he’s up to,” Lance murmured. “He’s trying to make sorcerers completely dependent on his supply of magic.” 

“And that’s not the best part,” Gwaine continued. “Mithian said that every time she or her people try to publish their findings or report it to any of the major news distributors, the information mysteriously vanishes. 

“PendraCor has a hand in almost every major media outlet,” Arthur said, taking the information in quietly, allowing it to process. “It would be child’s play to squash a story like that. Keep the truth from the magical community while preaching his distress over the sorcerers’ plight. He makes himself out to be some kind of humanitarian, passing the enhancers out to any who needs one...” 

“...and we have a whole population of sorcerers who have handed themselves into your father’s control without even realising it,” Lance said, completing the thought. 

“But there has to be more to it than that,” Arthur said. “I know my father. It wouldn’t be enough to have them dependent on him. With the enhancers, the sorcerers still have control of the power. My father wouldn’t end it there.” 

“He wouldn’t,” Lance agreed. “And what Gwen had to say might offer some insight.” 

All eyes turned to Lance as he made ready to offer his piece of the puzzle. “Of course, she’s still new in her father’s department,” he began, followed by another round of head nods. “However, she has heard some rumors that she’s trying to substantiate. There’s talk of some kind of new battery or storage unit being worked on. She doesn’t know much, but from what people are saying, it’s supposed to be made with some new mineral with unusual properties.” 

Without thinking, Arthur’s hand moved to the strange bit of stone he’d found the night before. After a bit of wiping, it turned out to actually be a bit of crystal. He’d placed it in the decorative bowl of rocks that served as the center piece of their coffee table and all but forgotten about it, but now...there was something. He wasn’t sure what, but there was something about that crystal.

He raised it and held it out to Gwaine. “Can you get this to Mithian and have her run some tests?” he asked. Gwaine looked at him askance and Arthur sighed. He wondered if he’d ever get to a place where his orders were followed without question. He also wondered if that was something he even wanted in a team. Somehow, he didn’t think so. 

“I found this in the building last night,” he elaborated. “I thought it was just a bit of rock, but I also thought I saw it glowing.” 

That was enough of an explanation for Gwaine. He took the bit of rock with a nod and a wink. “I’ll see what Misty can do for us.”

Arthur was satisfied with that response, and also oddly relieved to know that he was not the lone victim of Gwaine’s new affinity for pet-names. 

“I feel like we’re getting closer to the heart of the matter,” Arthur said after a moment of quiet contemplation. “Something big is happening. My father is setting something into motion and we need to figure it out before it gets too far out of hand, and we need to know who our allies are before things come to a head.” 

A somber silence fell over the room as they all took in the implications of what they’d learned and allowed the weight of responsibility settle further around their shoulders. They were all aware of the widespread significance of what they were trying to do, but as solders, they were trained to focus on the moment. The mission was important, but it was all too easy to get lost in the big picture. They took this time to remind themselves of the consequences of failure. Lives were at stake, and possibly much more. They had to stay focused on what needed to be done. 

“Right,” Arthur breathed, breaking the moment. “We’ll meet again on Friday at 1800 hours to debrief on our findings. Time is short so make it count. Is there anything else that needs to be brought to the table?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes when Gwaine raised his hand like a school child. 

“Gwaine?” he all but growled. 

“I would just like to say that I will be very glad to find Merlin again and get him back on the team. Because Merlin’s a great lad, and it would be fantastic to have any kind of magic on our side.” 

Arthur tried, but he couldn’t well be angry at a statement like that.

“And it would also be wonderful if he let you get a piece of that magical arse so that you can calm the fuck _down_ already!” 

Ah, there was the Gwaine he knew and loathed. 

But the statement clearly served a purpose. The others were snickering and the tension that had filled the room evaporated. He didn’t need to issue an official dismissal, it was clear that their meeting was over. His men gathered their things and made their way towards the door of the flat, Gwaine included. (Might as well deliver this rock sooner rather than later.)

Arthur stood to walk them to the door, listening as their chatter slowly drained from the flat and spread into the hall. He shut the door behind them, cutting himself off from even the sounds of voices echoing back to him from the stairs. Silence flooded the space in the wake of their departure as Arthur was left with himself and his thoughts. The sound of his pounding heart.

Things were coming to a head. The years of subtle defiance would have to end, and Arthur was facing the day he’d dreaded for years. Soon, he would have to step from the shadows and stand against his father in the light, and as much as he knew that his father was doing something horrible, he dreaded the knowledge of the rift he would be creating between them. Their relationship was strained as it was. Arthur knew that their views on this matter would likely end it, altogether. 

The thought caused an emptiness to take up residence in Arthur’s gut. Perhaps it was a feeling that had been there for a while, but he’d done a better job of ignoring it until that moment. Arthur couldn’t remember a time in his life when he felt more alone. He’d always had someone there to support him; Morgana, Gaius, Leon, even his father in his younger years. This was different. This was a mission that was his and his alone. His father. His responsibility. And despite the fact that he had a veritable family of friends at his back, none of them could really understand what this was doing to him. He barely understood it himself. 

Despite the fact that he had not heard from the other man in months, Arthur couldn’t help but think of Merlin. Merlin who had seen through every front that Arthur had put on and somehow managed to change everything in Arthur’s life without even trying. Merlin understood Arthur in a way no one ever had before, and when Arthur thought of who or what might help ease the growing void within him, the memory of Merlin’s smile seemed to make the ache fade away. 

Arthur and Gwaine’s flat was located in Somerset, the closest major city to Camelot University and the place where Arthur had grown up. His family had an estate on the outskirts of the city. This is where Uther lived, but Arthur, preferring his independence, chose not to stay in his childhood home when his father pulled him from university to focus on the hunt for Morgana. Uther had arranged for Gaius to provide private lessons for Arthur, to make up for the time away from uni, ensuring that Arthur kept up with his studies despite his additional responsibilities. Arthur had one such lesson with Gaius that afternoon, and he was very much looking forward to it. There were questions that needed answers and Gaius had proven invaluable in pointing him in the right direction in the past. He was sure that the same would be true now. 

He hopped into the little red Mini convertible his father had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday two years prior, and made his way to the university. It was strange visiting a place where he’d lived for so long, looking at the places he’d frequented and by all logic, should still be frequenting, and realizing that he was done with that part of his life. The university experience had been special, but he knew that as uncertain as he was about what was happening next in his life, he would for certain never be able to go back to those years of frivolous youth. He could own to a tiny seed of bitterness at that knowledge, but could also admit that his “frivolous youth” had never actually been particularly frivolous. If he was looking to mourn the loss of a youthful innocence, he’d have to look a ways back to find just when that had truly ended. 

He knew the moment he crossed the threshold signifying the field of influence of the Dragon’s Circle. That circle of land at the heart of the school had been decimated by the events of the year before and was still blocked off to the student population, but Arthur could tell that the power of that place had not been diminished at all. He felt it as a not-quite-warmth over his skin, almost like a blanket. It was not an unpleasant sensation, or even particularly distracting unless active magic were to take place within the field. It was such a strong focus of magic, he always wondered if the other students could feel at least a hint of it; wondered what it must feel like to sorcerers who were tied to the power that it embodied. 

Now was not the time for such thoughts, however. He parked in the student lot and made his way onto campus, heading towards the old citadel. Gaius’ office was in one of the towers there. 

It was a strange place, Gaius’ office. Full of books and papers and the usual things that any active professor would have, but also other things, mysterious objects whose purpose Arthur could only guess at. They made for interesting visual stimuli in times when the material being covered could not hold his attention. 

“Arthur my, boy!” Gaius greeted when he peeked his head in the door. “Come in, come in! You’re here right on schedule, as usual.” 

“You say that as though my father wouldn’t skin me alive if he heard of me arriving late to one of your lessons. It’s bad enough that he’s asking this of you to begin with.” 

“Your father only wants to be sure that you complete your education. He’s asked this of me looking out for your best interests, and you would do well to remember that, young man.” 

“I doubt my best interests have been a major motivating factor in my fathers decisions for a while now. He clearly has had other things on his mind.” 

He let the statement stand at that. They both knew to what Arthur was referring. There was no need to voice it and give it further power over the conversation. 

“Before we begin today, can I ask you a few things...of a sensitive nature?” 

Gaius parsed the wording and nodded his understanding. “Of course, Arthur,” he said, walking over to one of the bookshelves. “You know you can always come to me with anything.” With those words, he brushed his fingers over the spine of a particular book. Arthur felt the rush of magic fill the room and knew that their conversation was magically protected. 

“A gift from our mutual friend,” Gaius smiled at his own attempt at humor, but Arthur could only frown at the indirect reference to Merlin. The fact that Gaius had received a gift like the ones that Arthur had been receiving was new, but the revelation only served to increase Arthur’s frustration. 

“Where is he, Gaius?” he asked, his voice straining for control despite the roiling emotions he was fighting to contain. “The rumors keep spreading, but no one has seen him or heard from him in months! Tell me you’ve heard something!” His voice was taking on a desperate edge despite Arthur’s best efforts. “From his mother, or the Catha! Anything! There must be a way to contact him!” 

“Arthur, where is this coming from?” Gaius asked, brows creasing deep with concern. “You’ve been content to wait all this time and suddenly you’re ready to upend the country looking for him.” 

“My father never gave any hint that he knew that Merlin was the Emrys before, but he has now,” Arthur said bluntly. “This morning he called me into his office and told me to hunt Merlin down, and if I know my father at all, the fact that he’s told me anything means that he already has a plan for finding him. We have to find him first!” 

Gaius, cowed by this information, made his way back across the room to sit slowly in the chair behind his desk. 

“This does change matters,” the old man said. 

“That it does. What do you know of what is happening with Merlin?” 

Gaius took a deep breath before saying, “Unfortunately, very little. Understand, Arthur, that we’re not dealing with the instigation of just another Emrys into office. This is Emrys incarnate that we are dealing with. The rights of this ascension are known only to the highest ranking among the Catha, and even then, that knowledge is based on histories almost as ancient and secretive as time itself. I couldn’t even begin to guess at the details of the process.” 

“But surely you must have a way of getting in touch with the Catha? With his mother?” 

“The only reason that I was in touch with them before was on Merlin’s behalf. Now that he’s gone, I’m as cut off from them as you are.” 

Arthur made his way to his usual seat and flopped into it in a sulking manner he would have never let his father know of and absolutely never have allowed him to see. 

“Then I don’t know what we’re meant to do. I can’t help but feel that Merlin is in danger, and there’s nothing that I can do about it.” 

“I don’t think that it’s as bad as all that,” Gaius offered in a placating tone that Arthur wasn’t sure he could trust. He wanted to, though. He wanted to believe that Gaius was speaking truth and not just trying to assuage his fears. “There are several pieces to this puzzle that you are forgetting about, not the least of which being the part that you play in all of this.” 

Arthur gave him a doubtful look. “What part could I possibly play in tracking Merlin?” 

“Aside from the obvious connection between yourself and Merlin,” --Arthur did his best to keep from blushing at that-- “you must not discount the significance of your mother’s lineage.” 

Arthur allowed silence to fall between them for a moment as he let that thought settle. It was not a well-known fact that the last Emrys, Vivienne, had in fact been his mother’s sister. His father never spoke of his Aunt and Arthur had only the barest memory of the woman. But the fact remained, there was magic in his family; magic that tied him to another who had borne the Mark of Emrys. He wasn’t positive what that meant, but it was clear that Gaius saw a connection. 

“You think that matters,” Arthur said. 

“I do. And I think that you should have a bit more faith in our Merlin. Remember that we are dealing with a being that literally embodies magic. He wields more power than most people can even imagine. Trust that he can keep himself safe from your father for the time being. And when the time is right, trust that he will make himself known to you.” 

Arthur sighed, not pleased with the answer, but knowing that it was the best that he was going to get. 

“There is something else I wanted to speak with you about,” he said, recognizing that the current topic of discussion had been exhausted. “I ran into some children last night, sorcerers, both of them. One of them said that he’d seen Morgana and left me with what felt and sounded like a prophecy. ‘Follow the snake that circles the world’,” he quoted again. “Does that have any meaning to you?” 

Gaius paused, tapping his chin in thought for a moment. “The first thing that comes to mind is Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent of Norse mythology. It is said to have been cast into the ocean by Odin and grew so large that it was able to circle the world and grasp its own tail. It’s also said that when it lets go the world will end.” 

“Wonderful,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “I’m to follow a giant snake to the end of the world, it would seem.” 

“That is only assuming that the words are indeed referring to Jörmungandr. The next, and perhaps more obvious, interpretation is another image that Jörmungandr represents.” He took a moment to seek a book before bringing it to Arthur and opening it to a page that held the image of a serpent in the shape of a circle, biting its own tail. “The ouroboros is one of the most common Arcane symbols in use today. It is a symbol of the infinite, and cyclical nature of things, commonly used in alchemy as well as divination. If you like, you can take that interpretation. It’s considerably less dour, but also of little more help than the Midgard Serpent in helping you find your sister. Prophecies are difficult that way. Their true meaning will remain hidden until the time it needs to be revealed.” 

“I’m sensing a growing trend with you, Gaius.” 

Gaius chucked at this, ending it with a helpless smile and wave of the hand. “It is the way of things, my boy.” 

Arthur ran his hands across his face, stopping to squeeze at his temples to relieve some of the building pressure in his head. He had no clue what to do with that information. 

“I’m so tired of this, Gaius,” he sighed. “I’m tired of the questions. I’m tired of the lies. I’m tired of looking at my father and wishing that he was someone else. I’m tired of missing the people I love. I just...” he sighed, too tired to even finish the sentence. 

“I just want Merlin back. I don’t know what it is about him, but when he was there, by my side, everything seemed just that much more bearable. Even when I thought I couldn’t stand him, there was something there between us.” 

“It’s as I said,” Gaius offered. “There is a connection between the two of you just based in the line of Emrys succession. There is magic in your blood, Arthur, even if it’s not active. It’s only natural that that magic would resonate with someone like Merlin.” 

“Do you think that’s all it is? The magic in my blood responding to Emrys?” 

“That’s something I’m afraid I can’t answer for you, Arthur,” Gaius sighed. “You need to examine your feelings and find the answers there.” 

“You’re useless to me!” Arthur groaned, but it only earned a chuckle from the old man. 

“Now, if you would,” Gaius said brusquely, stepping over to the shelf that housed the book that Merlin had given him and stroking a line down the spine again. “There is a great deal of work you’ve yet to accomplish, and I’d like to see your completed assignment from last time before we continue.” 

Arthur sighed, suppressing a groan, but did as he was told. He understood the message loud and clear. He needed to focus. Whining about Merlin’s absence wouldn’t miraculously bring him back, so in the meantime, he had to take care of the things that he did have control over. 

Arthur pulled out the assignment and handed it to the professor. 

“Thank you,” Gaius intoned. “Please turn to page three hundred ninety-four of your text and read that chapter whilst I check your work.” 

Arthur sighed but pulled out his book. Of all the aspects of university life he was allowed to keep...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I was out of town and didn't get a chance to post last week, so I'll be posting twice today.
> 
> Here there be a conflict and just a bit of Merlin.

The next day found him with Leon again, as usual. The other man had been working with the rest of the team before and couldn’t make the gathering that Arthur had called of his smaller unit, but that didn’t mean that Arthur wanted to keep Leon in the dark. His captain was more than just a commanding officer. Arthur had learned almost all that he knew from the older man, and his on-going military training was left largely in Leon’s hands.

But beyond that, Leon had practically been part of the family for as long as Arthur could remember. First as simply the son of one of Uther’s colleagues -- the closest thing to a playmate that Arthur had been allowed -- later as a tutor and friend. He’d spent a fair amount of time as Uther’s personal assistant before Morgana’s kidnapping, but even then, Leon had made it clear that while he worked for Uther, he was still a friend worth trusting to Arthur. There had never been any doubt that Arthur could trust him with just about anything.

The question of magic and its place in the world was always a difficult one to broach with anyone associated with PendraCor. There was a mentality, intentional for some, unconscious for others, that magic and those with it were tools; resources to be gathered and exploited to best advantage to whomever made the best case for it. Many still remembered the resources they were talking about were actually people, but far too many forgot this, lost in logistics and scientific detachment.

Leon had always fallen into a different category, one that made him distinctly his own man. He didn’t follow the trends of those surrounding him, didn’t take the lead of superior officers or engineers with enough letters behind their names to make ones eyes cross. He tended to keep his own counsel on most things, giving nothing of his thoughts away unless he deemed one worthy of receiving access to such personal pieces of himself, a practice that Arthur understood well as it was one he’d learned to adopt himself. He was pleased to be able to say that he was one of the few people held within Leon’s confidence, and for this reason alone, he knew that Leon was one of the best people he could trust with the secret of what he and the others were up to. Leon had been one of the people to help open his eyes to what Uther was doing; had shown him things that he would have otherwise never known about. It was high time that he revealed the one thing he’d kept quiet about too long.

“What do you mean, kept quiet?” Leon demanded as they made a circuit of one of the public gardens at the heart of Somerset. It was a lush place, full of life. Reminded him, with a pang, of another garden and the young man who had revealed himself within it. “You said that you’d told me everything.” 

“I said that I’d told you everything relevant to the mission,” Arthur corrected. He knew that Leon was likely less than impressed with the distinction. “The mission parameters have changed, so I’m taking this opportunity to update you on needed information.” 

Leon simply looked at him, and Arthur knew the other man’s expressions well enough to know that Leon was irritated but keeping quiet about it so that Arthur would have a chance to get to the point. 

“It’s about Merlin, alright?” 

“Yes, Merlin,” Leon repeated. “I figured as much when you neglected to inform the rest of the unit that you were, in fact, in very close association with our current target at one point. What else are you keeping from them?” 

Arthur winced at this. In hindsight, perhaps it would have been better to have told Leon this from the start. Then again, maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut and let the cards fall where they would in due time. Ah, missed opportunities.

“Well, we discussed the Emrys yesterday,” Arthur began. “And we discussed my father’s theory on that matter.” He left it at that, knowing that he’d given enough information. Leon was a smart man. He’d figure out the rest.

Arthur saw the moment when he did. Shoulders drooped, head fell into hands... 

“Arthur, please tell me that your father isn’t right about Merlin.” 

“Afraid so,” Arthur told him, fidgeting with the watch he wore. It was one of Merlin’s gifts to him, a device that could prevent eavesdropping. Arthur could feel that familiar buzz of magic and distinct warmth that marked it as Merlin’s, but it was still uncomfortable discussing such things in the open. Especially now that Merlin was the central topic. “He showed me The Mark just before everything went to hell last year. What I haven’t figured out yet is how my father knows about him.” 

Leon said nothing for a long moment, the two men walking side by side in silence, then: 

“It stands to reason that if General Pendragon is indeed holding sorcerers against their will and exploiting their power, he might also have a way of channeling specific talents? Like those of a seer, for instance.” 

Arthur froze at the suggestion. He knew that his father had been harvesting magic in order to manufacture products and maintain the facade of producing synthetic magic, but it had never occurred to him that Uther might be using the stolen magic for more personal pursuits. It barely made sense. 

“How could that even be feasible?” he asked. “Born Seers can hardly comprehend their own visions. Visions that are stolen...” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He remembered long nights with Morgana, screaming herself awake from dreams that were not dreams at all. It had taken years for her to master her magic to the point that it was manageable for her, and still, certain visions were near impossible to interpret.

“There is a great deal that we don’t understand in all of this, Arthur,” Leon said. “The best we can do is make educated guesses and try to pull together what makes the most sense.”

“The most sense,” Arthur repeated. “Then the next logical question would be, if my father knows about Merlin, what else does he know?” 

Leon’s only response was a grim frown, brows pinching together in concern. 

Arthur didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all. Things were falling out of his control. There were too many unknowns, too many variables. His father held most of the cards at this point, and Arthur was desperately struggling to see through his poker face. 

“I want to bring the others in,” he said abruptly. Leon simply arched a questioning brow. “I want to, but I don’t know if we can trust them with this. I’ve got Gwaine and the others making their best judgments, but you’ve been working more closely with the rest of the team for longer than any of us. Do you think it’s worth the risk?” 

Leon didn’t answer him immediately, really thinking about the question and mulling over his thoughts before answering. 

“I think it will be very difficult to continue for much longer without telling them,” he finally said. “Whether they will all want to join the cause, I can’t say. But you trust them with your life, Arthur, as they trust you with theirs. I don’t think any one of them would betray you. Don’t you think that after all these months together they’ve at least earned the right to know? Have they not proven themselves worth that much?” 

Arthur thought about all that was at stake. His life. The lives of his friends. He thought of Merlin, hidden but so powerful, yet vulnerable in the face of the unknown threat that his father posed. He thought of the spark in his eyes, the curve of his lips, and the warmth that infused Arthur’s heart every time his mind drifted to thoughts of Merlin. He thought of the four others in his unit and the potential threat they posed. Were they worth the risk? When his mind was filled with images of Merlin caught in his father’s clutches, Arthur found that he was hard pressed to agree that they were. 

The attack, when it came, was sudden and completely unexpected. Arthur had been on his way to the local grocery to grab some items for dinner. Gwaine had been whining incessantly about their sad excuse of a pantry, but refused to make any effort in resolving the situation himself. Arthur had, for the sake of his sanity, agreed to do a bit of shopping after his meeting with Leon that afternoon. He’d just stepped from his car and had been diligently checking his list of ingredients for shepherd’s pie when he felt it; a sudden and very powerful surge of magic in the air.

Combat instincts had him throwing himself down into a neat roll before he’d even thought to do so, but when he surveyed the area from his crouched position, there was no threat visible. The people around him went about their business as if nothing had happened. But that was clue enough that there was something off. No one was staring at him askance, no one checking that he was alright. He’d just pulled a tuck-n-roll in the middle of a busy shopping area, at the very least someone should have been staring or stepping aside to avoid the nutter in khakis rolling about the street.

Arthur stood from his crouch, taking a step towards the nearest person in sight, a woman using a spelled compact to change the color of her lipstick. She was clearly having issues with it as the only colors she could manage were burgundy and grey. Arthur reached out in an attempt to get her attention only to find that his hand wouldn’t reach her. It was as if the air around her had thickened and Arthur couldn’t quite push his hand through it. Something in his gut was coiling. Something that felt like fear and warning. He thought of the veritable arsenal of anti-magic weapons that he had access to, and how few he had on his person; his watch to keep his conversations private, one of the charms that hid active magic. Nothing that would protect him if this were an attack of some kind. He’d foolishly left all of the personal shielding charms with his kit, never imagining that he’d be a target when he wasn’t in the field. 

His heart began to pound faster as he attempted to move in another direction and found that he couldn’t. The air around him was becoming a prison, caging him in, closing in with every passing second. He reached for his phone, a last-ditch attempt to at least signal to someone else that he was in trouble, but the air around him struck, taking hold of his arm, pinning it in place. Arthur gasped as he tried to fight the hold, mind racing. Who could be behind this? Why him? Why now? The power that it would take to do such a thing in broad daylight had to be impressive. All of the known sorcerers with that kind of power were either captured, incapacitated, or on the run. There were no possibilities coming to mind in the limited time that he had. 

He struggled a moment more in vain, scrabbling to break free of the hold, but it was tightening around his chest now. Was murder the intent? Arthur realized with a sinking feeling that death could be moments away from the way the hold on him was _squeezing_ , all happening with people going about their business around him, clueless to his distress. He recognized the now familiar misdirection spell keeping the others around him oblivious and wanted to scream his frustration to the sky. 

True panic set in as the world began going grey around the edges, and as darkness took his vision he felt an explosion of heat flare up in his gut. He felt fear that seemed far away and in his final moments of lucidity, his thoughts were of Merlin. 

He floated in darkness, soft and welcoming. It was numbing and cool and peaceful in this place, though there was little of him present enough to fully grasp that such concepts even existed. His mind was adrift; peacefully blank, pleasantly calm. 

_Arthur_  

The voice was warm. Gentle...

...familiar.

The familiarity was distant, somehow far away. But it was something that reminded him of being protected; feeling safe. 

_Wake up, Arthur_  

It was the voice of a woman. Someone too removed by time for him to remember, but more precious than words could say. He couldn’t see anything as he was, but he got the impression of bright smiles, warm curves, hair the same honey-gold color as his own.

_Please_  

The feel of the voice was the same; it had no sound just as the memories it evoked had no sight. But there was something more. He’d been wrong about how this voice felt to him. There was an urgency there that he’d missed before. A need. 

Arthur tried harder to hear, focused more of his attention on the source of that voice. It was calling to him. Pulling him forward, dragging him through the darkness away from all of the numb blankness and to a place that...to a place where... 

_Merlin_. 

The name was not spoken, it was thought. Because Arthur was in a state where he found himself very hard pressed to properly articulate. There was a warmth of gold surrounding him, but it was not a thing he could see, rather an impression he could feel. And just the same, within that impression of gold, there was the undeniable sense of Merlin’s presence slowly seeping into everything else. Arthur felt as if he were wrapped in it and held close. 

“Arthur, I felt your panic. You woke me. What’s happened?”

The fleeting memories of the events leading to Arthur’s abduction flashed through his mind, and when he felt Merlin’s dismayed horror, he knew that the memory had been seen or felt or shared by Merlin somehow. Merlin was in his mind. Merlin could see and feel what Arthur could. There was something extraordinary about this, but Arthur was still feeling too numb to fully appreciate it. 

“We’re bonded, Arthur,” Merlin explained at his observation. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. It shouldn’t even have been able to happen, but there’s something in you, and I’d meant to tell you before, but then everything went pear-shaped and I never got the chance!” 

Warmth flooded through Arthur as Merlin went on. This. This he had missed. This was what had been missing from his life. All things Merlin and ridiculous that he had found so impossible before had somehow become essential to Arthur feeling any sense of completion in his world at all. 

“Stop it, Arthur. Now isn’t the time to be distracted.” 

The sharp spike of terror hidden just beneath the words was enough to snap Arthur out of his semi-stupor. There was something serious happening. Why was he finding it so hard to focus? 

“It’s magic. Whoever took you has you spelled to remain asleep until they want you awake. Arthur, I don’t know where you are. If I could come, then I could track the bond back to you, but... If only you could open your eyes, I could use your eyes to see. All I know is that you’re moving. They’re moving you somewhere, but I’ve no clue where.” 

Somehow Arthur was fine with that. He couldn’t do anything about what would befall him once his abductors reached their destination, but as long as they were traveling, that meant that there was time. He could at least enjoy this reunion of sorts, even if Arthur didn’t fully understand how it was happening at all. 

“Gods, you haven’t changed.” There was a note of affection in Merlin’s voice that sent another wave of warmth through Arthur. It felt good to hear that special blend of exasperation and caring that was unique to Merlin. 

“I’ve missed you, too, you pillock.” There was laughter overlaying every word. “And I plan to get you out of this, whatever it is, so that we can have a proper reunion, not this metaphysical bollocks.” 

Arthur’s heart felt lighter having Merlin with him in any way, metaphysical bollocks or not. In some ways, it was even better like this, because Merlin was open to him in ways that he’d never been able to be until the very end of their time together before. He could feel every shift of emotion and fleeting thought. He could feel the fear, but he could also feel the love and determination. The willingness to use all the power at his disposal to keep Arthur safe, even if it meant... 

“Wait,” Arthur volunteered thoughts into the conversation for the first time since gaining awareness of Merlin within him. “I thought you’d controlled it. You can’t still be at risk for--” 

“I told you, you woke me, Arthur. I didn’t mean from just a nap. It’s why I’ve--” 

Arthur was pulled abruptly from his sleep before Merlin could finish the thought. He felt the other presence within him rush forward, hovering just behind his eyes, peering out through them; taking in the surroundings with great interest, though only sparing a fleeting look at the man in front of him. Arthur on the other hand set his focus squarely on the man. 

He was older than Arthur by several years, though some inches shorter, with a build that was solid while being neither slender nor thick. His hair was wavy, framing his face in strands of gold that did nothing to hide the hideous scarring that covered his right side, tracing from around his eye to past his neck. The man was watching Arthur with piercing grey eyes, smirking and waiting while Arthur steadily gathered his wits.

“Welcome,” the man intoned, voice smooth and serene, as if he hadn’t just snatched Arthur from his life and brought him there against his will. “And thank you for the donation of your magic to our cause.” 

Realization dawned upon him as his pulse picked up and Merlin’s attention finally focused forward. This man was a magic thief. He intended to steal the dormant potential in Arthur’s blood. Arthur immediately began struggling against his bonds, testing them for strength. He was sitting in a chair, wrists bound to the arms with thick, plastic zip-ties. His ankles seemed to be in a similar state, strapped to the legs, pinned in place despite his struggles. 

“That’s right, Arthur,” the scarred man said, standing and stepping over to a long table situated to the left of where Arthur was sitting. “I see that you understand where you are, and what is to happen next.” 

As the gravity of the situation settled fully within Arthur’s gut, he received another shock to his system when Merlin’s presence suddenly vanished, leaving that place in his belly tingling at the lost connection. The bond was still there, just narrow again, as it had been before, and he was left reeling at the abandonment. Why would Merlin leave him now when Arthur needed him most? 

There was no time for such concerns. He pushed the pang of hurt and betrayal aside and focused on his present situation. There had to be a reason that Merlin left. Arthur was sure that he would not have gone unless he absolutely had to, and if that was the case, that meant that Arthur had to find a way out of this situation on his own. 

He had seen what was left of those who had been victims of this brand of theft. The lucky ones were left mostly whole and coherent, but would slowly fade into madness as their minds and bodies struggled to connect to something so essential that had been torn from them. It had taken a while to even recognize the problem in people, let along pinpoint its cause. This was, unfortunately, what their world was becoming now as the magic drought continued to grow and spread. This was what desperation had done to them all.

“I wish I could say that the process would be without pain,” the man continued as he approached Arthur again, now holding a small, narrow, but wicked looking dagger, “but I fear that would be a lie. The physical trauma is minimal, and were you simply Mundane, you’d hardly be worth the effort and would barely even notice the loss or the losing.”

Arthur’s jacket had been removed some time before he was awoken, leaving his arms bare. His captor moved to his right arm and began carefully carving into the flesh, delicate runes spelled in his blood. Arthur clenched his jaw to bite back a hiss of pain. Each rune as it formed, seemed to burn itself into something more than just his flesh.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” the man asked. “The magic in these runes reacting to the magic in your blood, waking it. Your kind is becoming less common of late in these trying times, but you still number greater than those born with active power. Most people don’t realize that there is a distinction between the concept of Latent and Mundane. You see, everything that exists has some magic potential, Mundane or Arcane, the difference being the _active_ potential in that power. We sorcerers have access to our magic as well as the magic in other things. We can call it to us, channel it through us. Bend it to our will.” 

He made a demonstration of calling flame to his hand and sending it hovering near Arthur’s face, shaping it into a star and then a sphere before allowing it to dissipate. An impressive display of pyromancy all things considered. It was a difficult gift to control. 

“Not so for those who are truly Mundane,” he went on. “They interact with magic as observers but nothing more. You, however are a bit more than Mundane, Arthur. Your magic is closer to the surface and in higher concentration. Latent, but dormant. A perfect repository of power waiting for the right active power to claim it.” 

The final words were punctuated with a final jab of the blade. Arthur couldn’t hold back the grunt of pain as blood began to flow freely from the wound which had been just above the pulse point on his wrist. He tried to calm the pounding of his heart as he watched his life flow forth only to be collected into a small silver cup by his captor. 

“Who are you?” Arthur finally growled out, making some attempt to gain any kind of control over the situation. “Why are you doing this?” 

“My word, where are my manners?” The man placed a cloth over the cut to stem the flow of blood, apparently having gathered enough for his needs. He whispered a word in the Arcane tongue and Arthur felt a tiny flicker of power as the wound sealed. The cup was placed on the table and the man stood back, giving a perfunctory bow. 

“Dr. Edwin Muirden,” he said by way of introduction. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Arthur Pendragon, though I’m sure you cannot say the same.”

Arthur strained involuntarily against his bonds again, even knowing that it was useless. He hated this feeling of being trapped, knowing that there was nothing that he could do to help himself. “Clearly you know who I am,” he prompted, hoping to stall for time. There would be people looking for him by now. Gwaine would wonder what had happened to him when he didn’t make it back to the flat with food. If he could just… 

“I doubt there is a sorcerer alive who doesn’t know of your family. Your father has seen fit to make our lives so...interesting.” 

Arthur did not like the inflection this doctor had put on that last word. He knew full well the double meaning implied by it. 

“My family and yours have a long history, actually,” Muirden went on. “I was but a boy when my parents worked with your father, back before PendraCor was a household name. He was a different man then. It seems only fitting that all these years later, after what he did to us, I have this grand opportunity to return some of the _kindness_ we suffered at his hands.” 

With that, Muirden reached out a hand over Arthur’s shoulder where another hand appeared, passing something to the mad doctor. Arthur started, dismayed that he’d been unaware of the other presence at his back until that moment. He pushed the thought away, following Muirden’s movements in an attempt to see what he was doing. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a small crystal of some kind held suspended above the cup of Arthur’s blood. Muirden whispered words of magic, filling the air with terrifying potential, circling the stone above the pool of blood for several seconds. Time seemed to hang a moment... 

Muirden allowed the crystal to drop into the blood. 

The reaction was immediate and intense. Power flared from the cup in a visible flash of light and continued glowing dimly, tinted red as the blood at its source. The runes carved into Arthur’s arms were screaming, but he knew that the pain he was feeling should have been far greater, because in that moment, when time seemed to hang, he felt a rush of warmth flood him again, and Merlin had been there just as the pain sought to strike. 

“I have you, Arthur,” Merlin’s voice echoed through his mind. “Help is coming. They should be here soon.” 

So that’s where Merlin had vanished off to. It made sense. In fact, he wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to him from the start. It was the most logical course of action to take. He only wondered what form that help was going to take. Arthur would have simply asked, but the pain was steadily increasing, and Muirden seemed to be entirely too interested in his response, or rather, his lack of it. 

“Fascinating,” the other man said, tilting his head like a bird as he watched. “The others would be screaming by now. If your endurance is so great, perhaps we can speed this process along.” 

He hissed another word in the old tongue and suddenly Arthur was drowning in agony. He could practically feel the runes flaring, and in their power, he could feel the _pull_ within him. It was as if he were being taken apart at the cellular level, every nerve screaming as magic was ripped bit by bit from his blood. It was all-consuming, made everything else fade for a moment that felt like eternity. But then there was the echo of a voice, something warm wrapping itself around him, protecting him, blocking the magic that was attempting to tear him down. 

“It’s alright, Arthur,” Merlin’s presence felt more strained than it was before. He didn’t know how Merlin was able to do what he was doing, but it had to be draining to perform what had to be fairly powerful magic from such a distance. “I have you. I think I have an idea.” Without further elaboration on Merlin’s part, Arthur felt himself being pulled into darkness. The gentle embrace of sleep taking him away from the pain. 

“I think he needs for your to be awake for this spell to work,” Merlin explained, voice fading in and out in the darkness of Arthur’s mind. “That’s why he--” 

Arthur was yanked into wakefulness, Muirden looming over him as the amber light of power faded from his eyes. 

“Interesting,” he said. “There is another power working against me; a sorcerer protecting you somehow. But the only way that would be possible is if...” 

The other man reached out a hand and touched Arthur just below the solar plexus as he spoke a string of syllables that sounded harsh to Arthur’s ears. He felt the spike of power shoot through him, igniting that place behind his navel and forcing a gasp of pain from his lips. He could feel the echo of Merlin’s pain traveling back along that line and for the first time made the connection between that feeling he’d been having for months and Merlin’s magic. 

“A bond,” Muirden said with far too much glee. “And one that is not yet completed. It shouldn’t even be possible in someone like you, Arthur. You’re even more unique than I realized. This creates a very interesting opportunity. Your bonded is protecting you with their power, giving it over instead of yours. I’m happy either way, but I wonder; how much does this other have to give?” 

He spoke the words to activate the spell once more, but there was greater power behind it, no moderation at all. Arthur could feel Merlin’s panic, could feel the pain in the runes mounting. The world was fading into a grey-white haze as the magic fought within him, a sense of being torn apart ripping though him. Was he screaming? He couldn’t tell. There seemed to be a roaring in his ears, but that could be from the rush of blood, the rush of magic. It could be Merlin’s voice echoing and distorted within him. Arthur didn’t know. 

Time lost all meaning. There was only this twisting growing pain. These things writhing within him that he simultaneously recognized and couldn’t possibly identify even if he spent the rest of his life trying. And through it all, there was Merlin. The presence was struggling, that much he could tell. But he could also feel the fierce determination of it to stay with him. To keep him safe. To protect him at all cost. And just when Arthur thought that the tearing, wrenching struggle of it all would tear him apart from the inside out, there was another spike of power, another rush of magic. The last thing he heard was the familiar sound of weapons fire and shattering glass. Then... 

...nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more Merlin and a bit of Mithian. Plus some thickening plot.

Arthur’s earliest and most precious memories were of his mother. He’d been barely eighteen months old when she died, and he knew that by all logic, there should have been no way that he could have remembered her at all. But logic had nothing to do with it. There was something in him that had always remembered warmth. It wasn’t a sound or an image; not even a feeling in the more literal sense of the word. It was an experience. Something that felt safe, and right, and wanted. Something that he could only define as love. A mother’s love.

Considering the cold environment that he’d been raised in under his father’s endless scrutiny, the memory of that love was, at times, all that kept him from folding under the pressure. Perhaps nothing he ever did would satisfy his father, but this warmth, this love, was unconditional. It was all that he had left of the woman who had brought him into the world, and he knew, without a doubt, that it was something that he would hold onto until the end of his days. 

He could feel something like that warmth now, floating in the dark and secret place within himself. It was as if he were wrapped in that feeling, cocooned and protected. He was more deeply connected to that fleeting feeling of a memory than he ever thought possible. It had been augmented somehow. Without meaning to or trying to think of it, he knew that the reason was Merlin. Merlin’s magic was as much a part of what was holding him as the feeling of comforting warmth. It was magic that had drawn that feeling forward, and almost as if Merlin’s magic were cleansing waters smoothing away a lifetime’s worth of excess that obscured the essence of the memory, he understood it more clearly than ever before. 

There was something hidden within the memory of warmth. He couldn’t quite make out what, but there was something there that he’d never known before, something he never would have been able to access without the magic that resonated with his mother’s love. A secret. One that had been locked away inside of him for his entire life until Merlin had brought him the key. 

_“Now isn’t the time,”_ Merlin’s voice spoke directly into him. “ _It will keep. You need to rest.”_

All other thoughts evaporated into nothing. Merlin was _there._ With him in a way that was different to how he had been with him before. Closer, but still far away. Arthur didn’t understand his own thoughts. 

“How are you doing this?” Arthur asked, the world shimmering into being around him as he spoke. He was sitting with Merlin at the top of one of the climbing walls in the UOTC training grounds at Camelot University. It was a crisp fall evening, the sky a fury of burning color, fiery reds, oranges, and yellows, the sun’s parting gift to a world soon to be swallowed in gloom. “Is any of it real?”

“As real as it needs to be,” Merlin told him with a quirk of a smile, irritatingly indirect as only Merlin could be. “More important is _why_ we’re here. You needed someplace where you could rest and recover, Arthur.” Merlin reached out a hand, ghosting fingers across Arthurs cheek in a touch that felt so real Arthur was certain that Merlin was really there, by his side. “We almost lost you,” he said, voice quivering just so. “I’m shielding you from the worst of it, but that man…he hurt you.” Merlin turned away, stepping from the wall as the scenery shifted to the familiar coolness of the Dragon’s Garden. 

“He tried to take you from me.” The tremble in Merlin’s voice was equal parts fear and fury, but as Arthur followed him into the garden’s shadows, he could also feel how exhausted Merlin was.

“Not just me,” he said into the stillness, heart constricting. “He hurt you, too. _Through_ me. Because…we’re bonded?”

Merlin was looking at him now, through the shadows of the garden, but the somehow the dark of the night was not as dark anymore. There was a warmth in Arthur’s heart, a pull in his gut, and Merlin’s gentle smile reached him like a caress. 

“Bonded,” Merlin agreed. “Back at uni, the time you touch me…” he lifted his hand to indicate the intricatle lines of his Mark. “The best I can figure, a combination of me being what I am, you being who you are, and the unique properties of the Dragon’s Circle made it happen. Or maybe it was simply because some part of me wanted it to be. 

“This kind of bond between two isn’t wholly uncommon, but it’s rare enough to be considered something special. And it shouldn’t be possible to exist with someone who does not have active power.” 

“I get that part, Merlin,” Arthur huffed, smiling as he stepped closer to the other man. Merlin seemed to fade into the shadows the closer Arthur came. He stopped moving, frowning now. “But what does it mean? Why does it hurt you?” _Why can’t I reach you?_  

Merlin was there again, eyes almost glowing in the dimness, fingers a ghost of a touch as they moved over Arthur’s cheek again. “It means that I’m part of you now, and you’re part of me. It means that we’ll know each other at a level deeper than any other. When you hurt, I hurt. If you allow it, I’ll be able to know your thoughts and you mine. There may be times that you’ll understand my feelings better than I do.” He seemed to fade again as he stepped away. 

“But it also means that there is a line of magic joining us. I’ve used that line to come to you, to help you. But that line goes both ways. I can use it to reach you, but anyone with the skill and power can likewise use it to reach me. The existence of a bond is dangerous knowledge in the wrong hands.” 

“In other words, you were hurt because you came to help me.” Arthur summarized.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “But the alternative is unthinkable. I’ll gladly take a little discomfort if it means that your hard head stays intact. For now, you should focus on resting. Let me do this for you, protect you while I can so that you’ll be strong enough for whatever is to come.” 

“Is that why you’re here?” He asked, stepping forward again in an attempt to meet Merlin’s eyes only to find that the scenery had shifted once more. This time they sat near the pool of water at the garden’s heart. Grass was cool beneath his bare feet and the darkness was illuminated by the light of a full moon hanging high in the sky. Arthur tried to look, to follow the movements of the other man, but Merlin seemed to always be just out of his line of sight. “If you’re meant to be setting my mind at ease so that I can rest as you say I need to, this game of yours isn’t exactly helping,” he said, only half jokingly. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Arthur could feel the sincere apology in the words. “We’re still too far, and I’m not... My power isn’t there yet. I can’t quite reach you fully. But I’m still here. I’ll stay with you as long as I can.” 

He was filled with that feeling of warmth again, the one that was like a memory, but it was different this time. Because it wasn’t simply a memory. It was fresh, it was new, and it was everything that he had been missing for the past half a year. Everything that Merlin had taken with him when he’d left. 

“When will you come back? When will I be able to see you?” he asked, a flood of desperation pouring from his core. There was part of Arthur that was horrified by the sudden loss of control. His emotions were running high, and all barriers that he’d taught himself to hold against such weakness seemed to have never existed in this space. He could not hide this ache from Merlin; could not deny it any more than he could deny the relief of Merlin’s presence. 

“Everything feels so wrong without you,” he admitted. It was the first time he’d acknowledged the feeling in all the time they’d been apart. The whole time that Merlin had been gone, since he’d been so suddenly yanked out of Arthur’s life, Arthur had done everything he could to ignore the yawning void that had been left behind. There was a sense of calm that had once been there, an easing of pressure. The knowledge that there was someone who expected nothing more of Arthur than for Arthur to be Arthur; who could remind him of whom he was meant to be if Arthur ever forgot. Someone who would allow him silence when he needed it, could coax a smile out of him when nothing else could. He’d never been able to tell Merlin just how much Arthur’s life had changed because of him; how much more alive he felt when Merlin was by his side. And how the colors had faded when Merlin left, how empty he felt, how tired... 

He felt phantom arms wrap around him from behind, a familiar comforting scent ghosting through the air. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin told him. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen like this. I didn’t know that you felt it like I do. I mean I knew, but I didn’t, really. I didn’t understand that you--” 

“Merlin,” Arthur cut him off. “You’re ruining the moment with your idiotic babbling.” Arthur felt the sparks of Merlin’s amusement and affection bubble through him, easing the intensity of the emotions he’d been feeling. 

“It’s good to know that you’re just as big of an ass as I remember,” he said. Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the old insult. 

“You still can’t talk to me that way. I am technically your commanding officer.” 

“I think not, since I never enlisted, and the last I checked, I was pretty well expelled from the institution that we served under together.” 

“Technicalities. _I_ recruited you. You agreed. You’re mine until I say otherwise.” 

“Yours, am I?” 

Arthur could feel the warmth heat up to something entirely different as Merlin sampled the flavor of the words. Something hot and delicious shivered up his spine, and he could swear that he felt gentle puffs of air at the nape of his neck. 

“I might like the sound of that.” 

Arthur woke to warm light flooding his room and an uncomfortable situation in his pants. For all that he’d clearly been resting, he still felt bone weary, the heated weight between his thighs an itch that he had no hope of scratching. It was more irritant than anything and his first thought was to wonder how Merlin managed to make his life so difficult even when he wasn’t there. 

“I see you’re feeling better.” 

Arthur jumped several inches where he lay, heart pounding adrenaline and embarrassment coursing through his blood when he looked to his right and found Gaius sitting at his bedside. 

“Good morning, Arthur,” the old man said, making no direct mention of the slight tent in the bed linens and thus making its presence all the more apparent, somehow. Arthur quickly shifted to his side, clearing his throat before speaking. Or rather, attempting to speak. He opened his mouth and heard only a breathy rasp where his voice should have been. 

“You’re not quite up to speaking yet,” Gaius said, holding a glass of water towards him. Arthur reached out a hand to take it, but found that he was having trouble lifting his arm. In fact, now that the spike of adrenaline was fading, he was finding it difficult to move very much at all. His confusion and distress must have shown on his face because Gaius was there, pressing a hand to his shoulder and offering words of comfort.

“You’re alright, Arthur,” he said. “Your body has just been through a very serious ordeal. It will take a bit of time, but you will recover. Now, here.” 

Gaius lifted the glass to Arthur’s lips, and though it stung his pride, he accepted the water gratefully. The angle was a bit off causing some water to dribble out the side of his mouth when he drank, but Gaius wiped it away with a napkin and set the glass aside. 

“What happened?” Arthur managed a wisp of a question this time. His voice was still a shredded rasp, but at least there were words. 

“I received a message from our mutual friend that you were in danger,” the old man said. “With a bit of assistance, I was able to gather your team and they were able to get you out.” 

Arthur took a deep breath and sighed it out as he let that information sink in. He remembered the events that had lead to his current condition, but it all seemed very far away somehow. He glanced down to examine his arms, but even the runes that had been carved into his flesh were gone; healed. The only thing that stood true and vivid was the memory of Merlin; the warmth of his presence, the _rightness_ of their connection. He couldn’t tell Gaius of this at the moment. He’d recognized immediately that he was in his room at his father’s estate, and no matter what protection they had, Arthur had no intention of even hinting at Merlin’s name while in his father’s house.

“Father knows,” he said, aiming for the next most obvious observation and expressing it in as few words as possible. 

“Of course he does,” Gaius chided. “We would hardly keep this from him. He was beside himself with worry.” 

Arthur knew from experience how Uther expressed his emotions. He felt very sorry for anyone who had to deal with him while Arthur was under. 

“How long?” he asked, the last bit of information he needed to get his bearings. 

“You were kidnapped in the evening two days ago. Your team was able to retrieve you late into that night. You slept through all of yesterday.” 

Arthur frowned at that. He didn’t like losing that much time, no matter the reason. 

“I know it seems a bit much,” Gaius offered, “but you’ll heal faster if you rest. It was what your body needed.” An echo of Merlin’s words ghosted across his mind. 

Speaking of what his body needed, his heart ached at the remembered connection to the one thing that felt more needed and necessary than anything else. Though he’d just woken, his eyes were already feeling heavy. His body sore all over, his nerves feeling stretched and stressed. It was a strange feeling, one he’d never experienced before and hoped never to again. 

A warm hand settled on his head, the slight weight soothing as only a caring touch could be. 

“Sleep, Arthur.” Gaius’ voice chased him back into slumber. “You’ve nothing to concern yourself with for now.” 

Arthur was already gone. 

The next time he awoke, his room was ablaze with the colors of late afternoon. He felt more rested than he had the first time he surfaced, but still could feel fatigue pulling at his body, making him feel perfectly justified in stretching out in his bed and staying put for a bit longer. He rolled lazily to his side and froze completely at the sight that greeted him. A less disciplined soul might have wet himself, especially considering how Arthur’s bladder was, indeed, quite full. 

“You’re awake,” his father said, reaching out a hand to brush hair from his forehead in a way no one had since Arthur was a child. He was sitting in the chair that had once been occupied by Gaius, his ever-present tablet set aside though it was clear that he’d been working on it recently. Apparently his father had been sitting with him while he slept. “Thank the gods, Arthur. I was so worried.” 

Arthur had no idea how to respond to this. This was not the father he was accustomed to. This was not the cold, severe man he’d grown up with. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure who this person was, but it was definitely not General Uther Pendragon of PendraCor International.

He tried to sit up but was urged to stay put. 

“Rest Arthur,” his father told him. “Get your strength up. I’ve taken care of everything. You’ll meet me in my estate office first thing in the morning to receive your new orders.” 

Ah. Perhaps he recognized this man after all.

Before Arthur could respond in any way, there was a knock at his bedroom door and a familiar head of short-cropped hair peeked in before being acknowledged. 

“I _knew_ I heard talking in here,” Owain said, face breaking into a crooked grin. He then proceeded to let himself in followed promptly by Gwaine, much to Uther’s displeasure, and once the door was open, the small crowd of worried visitors was revealed hovering at the door. 

The stony mask of aloof detachment slid back into place as Uther stood and gathered his things. “I’ll leave you to your friends,” he said as he made his way out of the room. Others had at least been respectful enough to wait for Uther to depart before rushing into the room, and not for the first time Arthur felt a nugget of irritation at some of his friends’ apathy towards all things that resembled authority. 

The nugget was replaced immediately by a mountain of surprise when he found himself, very unexpectedly, with a face full of breasts as he was pulled into a firm, feminine embrace. 

“We were all so worried about you!” Elena’s voice came from somewhere beyond the bosom he was clutched to. “You gave all of us such a scare, we thought you’d never wake!” 

“He still might not if you smother him to death with your cleavage, E,” Gwen’s amused voice came from somewhere in the room letting Arthur know that those who had been lingering in the hall had made their way into his room now and were all observing the spectacle of Arthur’s current predicament. He felt part of himself attempting to blush, but he willed it back, missing fervently the days when Elena could not stand to even look at him, let alone touch him. 

“Yes, yes. My affection could easily crush such a delicate blossom,” she said, releasing him and moving away from the bed. “Remind me not to mention how babies are made, he’d faint dead away.” 

“Now, now ladies. Leave the poor man alone,” Gwaine interjected. “He’s just been through quite the ordeal. The least we can do is let him keep some of his dignity, despite his infirm state.” 

“I don’t think you’re helping, Gwaine,” Elyan chimed in from behind the other man. “You’re not doing him any favors by calling attention to how he’s been sleeping like a princess for the past day and a half.” 

“Or how he cried out for some handsome prince to save him in the end,” Percival chimed in, causing the entire group to erupt into guffaws. 

“I did no such thing,” Arthur protested, forcing himself into a sitting position, finally feeling strong enough for at least that. “If anything kept me asleep, it was knowing that I had you lot to wake up to.” His voice was rough, but functional. He felt almost human again, warmed by the friendship surrounding him. His entire team was there, Gareth lingering by the door, Pellinore leaning against the wall beside him, doing a good impression of being unaffected by the whole situation. Tristan had made his way to the window and stood beside Leon, both looking a bit too serious for Arthur’s taste, but, as the two most experienced members of the team, such was their right. Arthur would leave the heavy thinking to them for the time being. He wanted to enjoy a few carefree moments while he could, forced as they were. 

Banter and laughter filled the room as the light of the sun slowly faded. Arthur mostly listened, grinning when he needed to, adding short comments when he could. But mostly, he just let it all wash over him. It had been a long time since he’d felt so relaxed, so content. His body sank down into his pillows, sleep slowly rising to dull words to simple sounds; distilling all that was happening around him into only the most basic elements. The murmuring sounds of voices, the feeling a warmth and familiarity. He wasn’t even fully aware of it as he began to fade into sleep 

“I suppose we should go and let you rest,” Gwen said, appearing at his bedside, pulling Arthur back into full wakefulness. “Gaius said that you’d be fine, but you’d tire easily for a while yet.” 

“We’ll update you on mission information as soon as you’re feeling up to it,” Lance told him, stepping over to place a hand on his shoulder. “We’re glad we found you in time.” 

Lance was the only one to voice how close they had come to not making it. Arthur knew for a fact that had Merlin not been there shielding him, he would be just another victim of magic theft, lost to insanity in the nearest psychiatric ward. The very thought sent a trill of horror down his spine. 

“Thank you,” he said, addressing the group, but especially his team. “Thank you all for getting me out.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time we had to pick up your slack, Pendragon,” Owain pushed roughly at Arthur’s head, all gruff playfulness in the face of any type of emotional display. “Don’t go falling to pieces on us.” 

More laughter, warm smiles and simple nods of acceptance. The room quickly emptied making the space immediately feel colder, much closer to what he remembered from his childhood. Leon was the only one who lingered, stepping forward. He’d been quiet most of the visit, but Arthur could tell that there was something weighing very heavily on his mind. He opened his mouth several times, starting to say something then stopping himself before his did. Finally he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, eyes piercing as they met Arthur’s. 

“You’ll need to be more careful,” he said. A simple warning, an understandable statement considering the circumstances. But for some reason, as he watched the older man leave the room, Arthur had the impression that Leon was attempting to impart a very different warning by leaving him with those words. 

The following day, Arthur dragged himself out of bed at the ungodly hour expected of him by his father, dressed, and slowly made his way through the manor to his father’s office. It was strange being there again, conjuring up memories of childhood adventures with Morgana; another echo of a feeling of warmth that was a memory of something he couldn’t possibly remember. 

His feet followed the familiar path of their own accord, so well trod that he’d be able to make the journey in his sleep if necessary. Something that came in handy at the moment, as Arthur was tired enough that he felt as though he were sleeping on his feet. 

He stifled a yawn as he reached his father’s office, knocked and waited a moment for his father’s acknowledgement before opening the door and stepping in. He was brought up short by the presence of another in the office, sitting in front of Uther’s desk in one of two red leather chairs. It was the man with the tattoos that he’d seen exiting his father’s office before. 

“Arthur, come,” Uther invited. “Please, have a seat.” 

Arthur obeyed, but eyed the other man warily. He wasn’t sure what it was about the blond that made him so uneasy, but there was something about him. Something that made his skin crawl and made what he now recognized as the connection between himself and Merlin thrum with warning. 

“I’d like you to meet someone,” Uther said, either unaware of or ignoring Arthur’s discomfort. “Arthur, this is Viktor Aredian. Viktor is a long-time colleague of mine. He’s worked with me for years in the study of magic and the best way to harness its power without leaving it in the treacherous hands of sorcerers. He understands the ways of magic better than anyone I know. That is why I am assigning you to work with him from now until your sister and her abductor are found.” 

Arthur sat up straighter in his chair at this. “Father, this is not necessary. My team and I--” 

“You and your team have gotten nowhere in the past half year. And in that time, this so-called Emrys has had time to plan and execute yet another attempt on my family. This cannot continue, Arthur. Aredian’s success rate in tracking sorcerers is unmatched. He has already been assisting in this investigation in a smaller capacity, providing leads for several months. He has agreed, now, to devote his full attention to the matter. I expect you to work with him to eliminate this threat. Is that understood?” 

Arthur had to bite back a scathing comment. He sent a glare in Aredian’s general direction, then reigned himself in. He knew the look on his father’s face. There would be no swaying him in this matter. 

“Yes, father,” he said, and settled back in his seat. 

“Good,” Uther nodded then turned his attention to the large display on his desk and began typing. “You are to begin work immediately. Dismissed.” 

Arthur stood from his seat and Aredian followed suit. They walked together out of Uther’s office, Arthur doing all in his power to ignore the other man though he knew that it was impossible. 

“Arthur,” Aredian said, stepping in front of him with a calculating look in his eye. “I very much look forward to working with you. I know that together we will be able to accomplish many great things. You father has made a wise decision in having us work together.” 

The words were all right, but there was something so wrong about the way in which they were said. It was as if Aredian were laughing at him, but Arthur could not imagine what, in this situation, could be so funny to the other man. Then Aredian walked past him and patted Arthur on the shoulder. For a split second, it was as if something inside of him had screamed. The thrum of warning in the bond had become a full on alarm at the brush of contact. That’s when Arthur understood. The responses he was having, the discomfort. It was the _tattoos_. They weren’t tattoos at all. Aredian had magic. And he was covered from head to toe in stolen Marks.

“Are you certain of what you saw?” Leon asked that night when they were all gathered in Arthur and Gwaine’s flat. 

“It’s less what I saw and more what I felt,” Arthur tried to explain. He’d been sitting with his circle and Leon for the better part of an hour detailing all that had happened to him and what he’d learned of Merlin. He closed his briefing with the meeting he’d had with his father that morning and his concerns about Viktor Aredian. “Ever since Merlin came to me when I was abducted, the link between us has been different somehow. Stronger, more active. When Aredian touched me, it responded almost violently to the presence of such tainted magic. On my own, I would have no way of knowing about his magic until he used it, but Merlin’s power knows. Aredian is a problem.” 

“Well he’s going to have to take a number,” Elyan said, breaking into Arthur’s thoughts. “We’ve learned a lot while you were sleeping. Most of it, not very good.” 

Arthur groaned. “Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?” 

“It’s how we keep things interesting around here. Our lot, it would seem.” 

“Right, just tell me already.” Arthur looked up and saw Elyan exchange looks with Gwaine who shrugged and made a gesture indicating that Elyan should continue. The younger man stood to fetch a small, lidded box from one of the side tables and handed it to Arthur. Confused, Arthur took the thing, giving it a closer look. The box was metal, but very light somehow, carved with runes that made his skin tingle with their inherent power. 

“What is this?” he asked, feeling as though there was something very familiar about the box. 

“Go ahead,” Elyan prompted with a gesture and a nod. “Open it.” 

Arthur did and almost dropped the box when a very familiar bit of crystal was revealed. It was the same crystal that Muirden had used against him when he’d been captured. Arthur had only seen it for a moment, but he would never forget the stone or the pain it had brought. 

“You took it,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice steady and only partially succeeding. 

“We did,” Elyan confirmed. “Gaius gave us the spelled box to hold that one. It was radiating enough magic to send our aurameters into fits.” 

“The _stone_ did?” Arthur asked, examining the crystal more closely. Now that he was really looking at it, he could see that the crystal was very different from how it had been before. When he’d first seen the thing in the hands of a madman, it seemed a simple bit of clouded stone. If he’d seen it in any other setting he would have assumed it was a bit of quartz or some other crystalline mineral. Now, the crystal was almost glowing, pulsing with an inner light that swirled through its veins and sparked along its fissures. The play of light was beautiful, and he knew what that light represented. 

Magic. And not just any magic. This tiny crystal was saturated with Merlin’s magic. Arthur could almost feel it reaching out to touch, to sooth. 

“But that’s not where it ends,” Elyan continued, breaking into Arthur’s thoughts. “Does that stone remind you of anything else?” 

Arthur blinked up at him dumbly, not fully understanding the question as his mind was still stuck on the idea that he was holding a bit of Merlin’s magic in his hands. Elyan snapped his fingers at Gwaine who seemed to snap out of his own stupor to produce something from his pocket and toss it to Elyan. 

“Left half of it with Misty, but wanted to keep some for ourselves just in case.” 

Elyan placed the object on the table in front of Arthur, and he knew what it was before the other man took his hand away. That bit of crystal he’d found on the mission when they’d captured Alvarr. 

“We had Mithian compare the two crystals. Same structure. Same stone.” 

Arthur’s gut began to roil as the information was presented to him. These crystals were clearly something used as storage for magic even if he wasn’t entirely sure how they worked. His pulse began racing as his mind made a final connection. 

“A mineral with strange properties,” he said, remembering Lance’s words from their last meeting. He looked to the other man, hoping that he was wrong. 

“We dismantled some of the enhancers and found bits of the same crystal in all of them,” he said. “From what Gwen can tell, there is something major still in development surrounding power, and I have no doubt that this crystal is at the heart of it all.” 

“But if that is the case, how is it that both my father and these criminals have access to this crystal?” It was possible that there was simply a source that both parties were aware of, or that there were multiple sources of the crystal that these people were able to tap into. But Arthur feared that was not the case at all. He could see very clearly the type of plotting his father would craft, the trap that he would set. Let some of the crystals slip into the right hands and sorcerers become enemies; things to be feared. Thieves. Of magic. Of sanity. Of peace. How easy it would be to persuade a public full of the Mundane that sorcerers were not to be trusted.

Would his father really do something like that? Could he? And if he would and could, what would that say about Arthur’s captivity and what had almost happened to him? He could not believe that his father would ever willingly put him at risk. In the end, it just didn’t make much sense. 

“It could mean anything Arthur,” Leon told him after his silence had stretched on far too long. “Focus on the facts in front of you. Worry about the rest when it comes.” 

“But what do the facts tell us?” Percival chimed in. “We’ve these crystals that keep magic somehow. Arthur was kidnapped--” 

“Captured,” Arthur corrected. 

“Mithian’s got a lot of sick sorcerers on her hands, and we’re still no closer to figuring any of this out!” 

It was possibly the most words that Arthur had ever heard Percival string together at once, and definitely the most emotion he’d seen the big man express outside of a footie match. If the tension was getting to _Percival_ then it was a sure sign they were in dire straights. 

Pounding sounded at the door, interrupting their conversation. It was late, well after dark, and they were definitely not expecting anyone. They went silent and soldier’s instincts kicked in for all in the room. Arthur rose and stepped carefully towards the door, reaching it just as more pounding began. He checked the view-hole in the door and felt a shock of alarm at what he saw. 

Without another thought, he pulled the door open and pulled Mithian in. He checked the hall of his complex both ways before stepping back in and shutting the door firmly. The rest of the men in the room had descended upon the disheveled woman now sitting in one of the plush chairs, slowly sinking into herself. Arthur stepped forward, gesturing for the others to back off and give her space. Mithian’s face was covered in soot. She stank of smoke. She was clutching a folder to her chest, her entire body trembling.

“Mithian,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could manage. She looked as if her world was falling apart and it very well might have been. “Mithian, what’s happened?” 

After a couple of false starts she finally managed, “They burned it.” Tears began tracing lines through the soot on her face. “They burned it all to the ground.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be reporting progress on my [tumblr.](https://wipdfic.tumblr.com)


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